Justina Travels

On India

2007-05-03T10:51:00.000-07:00

I'm home and it's lovely.

Despite the pounding rain 24 hours a day and temperatures in the single digits (the single digits!) the comforts of home have quickly reminded me why it's nice to stay in one place for a while. I travelled for 8 months and hit five countries: Hong Kong/China, India, Nepal, Myanmar (Burma) and Thailand. While each country gave me something the others couldn't, India hit hard and deep as one of the most bazaar places I've been to.

Love it or hate it (and we all know I do both), India gets into your blood. Half in the stone-age and half in the e-age, travelling India is one of the most frustrating and wonderful experiences I've ever had. And now, it seems that only in hind site do I realize just how great it really was. India is the second most populated country in the world with numbers steadily creeping over 1.2 billion, yet India cannot employ or feed its people and the poverty of the country is an overwhelming and looming presence everywhere. Life is based on religion and religion is based on karma - which in everyday real India seems to take a back seat. I met very few people who truly believed in karma outside a temple setting. Karma to most meant bringing coconuts and flowers to Shiva rather then charging a fair price for a handful of lentils.

India is a struggle to both foreigners and locals and I would like you to imagine having to shove and yell your way through a Safeway and barter to the last rupee for absolutely everything. Getting ripped off is a way of life. Screaming about it is too. But besides all the bustle and hassle and brutality, India is extraordinarily beautiful and colourful. Details of belief and history are show from the way women wear their bangles and the colour sari they wear to the intimately carved temples.

Coming from Canada it's hard to understand how such traditional and suppressive history remains prominent today. Although not openly talk of, the struggles of women, children and those of the lower classes is almost the same as it was hundreds of years ago. India's claim to the largest democracy in the world is a facade when women are bought and sold, children are murdered, and personal success is based on who your father or brother knows, rather then ability and skills.

India is raw and thriving and unlike anywhere else in the world. It's addictive and mind-blowing and devastating. I don't think it's possible to understand India, rather it's just a place you accept. The history and customs run deep within the veins of the people and as an outsider you could never understand what it is to be Indian but it's a place where you must go to observe the realness of survival and humanity.

So Stressed Yaar

2007-04-19T10:33:00.000-07:00

The past eleven days I have been doing absolutely nothing. Well no, that's a lie, not nothing but more nothing of major interest. After the very last and one of the worst bus rides back to Delhi we arrived at the airport 6 hours early for our flight to Goa. Quickly commandeering the "lounge" sofas we slept. Aaron was ill - India ill and feeling terrible with stomach pain and nausea so after many many hours of travel it was a relief to settle in a beach bungalow where the sounds of the waves crashing puts you in a trance instead of bleating horns and screeching breaks.

It's been stressful to say the least. The biggest decisions start in the morning when I a) have to decided between the stripy or poke-a-dot bikini and b) we have to decide where to go for breakfast. Following that another series of big decisions come when the order of reading, floating, sunning, walking, swimming, paddle-balling, hammoking, dog patting, beer drinking, and of course... where to go for dinner? We did manage to skip the beach routine for a day, instead scooting all the way up to Anjuna, in the far north of Goa from our little beach in the south, Palolem. It was killer hot but worth it because it was the last market of the season and the prices were going down faster than the drips of sweat down my bum. I bought a yak bone carving of Ganesh.

So other than that, there isn't much to report. By request I am going to put up the books I've read while travelling (well, the ones worth reading anyway) in case you're looking for something good to feast your eyes upon.

The Time Travellers Wife - Audry Niffenegger *
A Million Little Pieces - James Frey *
Under the Banner of Heaven - Jon Krakauer *
Life of Pi - Yann Martel *
Solomon Gursky Was Here - Mordecai Richler
Desert Dawn - Waris Dirie
Chaos - James Gleick (warning: nerdy science book)
Even Cowgirls get the Blues - Tom Robbins *
Mother of Pearl - Melinda Haynes
The Devil Wears Prada - Lauren Weisberger
Vernon God Little - DBC Pierre
How Soccer Explains the World: A [unlikely] theory of globalization - Franklin Foer
Amsterdam - Ian McEwan *
Burmese Days - George Orwell
Gap Creek - Robert Morgan
Guns, Germs and Steel - Jared Diamond *

The God of Small Things - Arundhati Roy *
Shantaram - David Gregory Roberts *
A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry *

* If you haven't read any on the list...pick these ones up first

Hare Om and the Nevil

2007-04-08T00:11:00.000-07:00

I won't lie. I'm uninspired to blog right now but if I don't do it now...we'll I'll probably never do it and that might make you sad... maybe even cry which would probably upset me more than just pounding out a blog right now.

After arriving in Rishikesh late in the evening we didn't get off to a great start with a visit to the Ashram we had in mind. The lackey, beatle-head guy working the reception was a total asshole to say the least and didn't give us a great impression of what it was all about. We decided to hold off as he was asking for all the money up front and instead to a crappy hotel room for the night. The following morning we bummed around somewhat disappointed in the whole ashram scene which we found to be overly religious for us and have too many rules such as silent hours, no talking during meals, no games/music, no soap, no worldly discussion (?) etc etc etc... it was definitely the whole saving our souls vibe that we got that didn't quite suit, so we wandered down the Gages river to the other end of town. Not only did we find little Israel but also some more homey and less religious ashrams for the white people who don't want to wake up at six for yoga and be bombarded by dancing Shiva statues while reading in the courtyard. Sant Swea ashram had beginner yoga classes held twice daily which you could drop in on and pay when you like and it also had clean comfortable rooms with lots of windows. We were sold.

The next five days passed quickly with few major events. We did some classes with Yogi VJ who often confused the term "beginner" with "expert" in the poses he chose for us to try. It was pretty funny and I did learn a lot but the way he asked us to "ccccccooooooooonceeeeeeeennntraaaaatte oooooooooon yooooooooooooouuuuuur nevil!" was sometimes a little too much and I had to suppress the giggles. We ate and read and did yoga. I got a bit of a cold and Aaron bonked his head and that's about it. We wandered around town and took in the sites of cows and religious beggars and once the sundown ceremony which involved a lot of chanting and fire and I even put my feet in the Ganges!

From Lama to Lame-a!

2007-04-03T22:55:00.000-07:00

Home to the exiled Dalai Lama, McLeod Ganj is a tiny town that joins with it's more known sister town, Dharmsala and after the long and terrible bus to get there, we found a hillside guesthouse with a view for a great price and started to enjoy the cooler mountain weather. Much like Darjeeling, McLeod Ganj has a mix of Tibetan, Nepali, Indian, and Sikh communities that all seem to revolved around the struggle for a Free Tibet. Besides visiting the Tibetan museum and strolling around the Dali Lama's residence there isn't a whole list of "to dos" or "to sees". Soaking all the Tibetan culture and dipping in a variety of classes (cooking, reiki, yoga, meditation, dance, etc) seems to be the thing to do and travellers tend to stay for long periods of time as time passes easily. We however didn't have a lot of time to spare but three days gave us a good taste.

We chilled out, walked around, did a little shopping, and educated ourselves on the Chinese control over a very peaceful Tibet. This situation is dire although the Dalai Lama and his many followers hold only positive hopes. And, as more and more people come to volunteer and learn about what they can do to help in their home countries the pressure on China to give back Tibet grows. Power in numbers seems the only way Tibet will become independent again and the Tibetan community only hopes that the many travellers that come to McLeod Ganj will pass on their messages of peace to gain support for fighting China.

Our original plan was to continue north to Kashmir province to Srinegar where house boats lull on the lake, the military keeps a close eye on Pakistan, and Kashmir sweaters are cheap and plentiful; however, the bus we thought that went there no longer does/or never did and to get there would require two full days of travel and a private taxi costing us about $400 altogether! Insanity! If there were more places to see in and around the area we would have considered it but many of the mountain passes are still closed so transportation is limited unless you want to fly. So plans changed and we decided to check out Shimla instead.

Arriving early morning after yes, another sleepless overnight bus, I quickly judged Shimla to be, well, a shithole. Not only did we have to wade through garbage (which you get very used to in India, but even this was extreme) but we also had to fend off touts as aggressive as those on the streets of Bombay. Shimla was a British colonial hill station (once) and I'm sure many years ago fit the scene of any colonial town with promenades and beautiful buildings but today, to me, besides the one pedestrian "mall" that runs along the main ridge of the mountain, Shimla has gone to the dogs - or in this case:monkeys. It now houses an out of control monkey population and a monkey temple that yes, has lots of mean monkeys, and lots of buildings that look as if they're about to fall off the mountain and send the whole town cascading to hell. The steepness and winding lanes doesn't make it easy to navigate with tired legs and a heavy backpack and as Aaron and I left the bus station we were followed by not one, not two, but three mischievous and aggressive touts. Our first stop was way up at the top of the mountain to the YMCA because the were one of the only hotels that didn't pay commission. I was sourly surprised that they were trying to rip people off of 400rps for a less than spectacular room with no attached bathroom. Ya right. We backtracked and the touts jumped on us. Their scam is to follow, see where you're going, and come inside with you telling the hotel that they brought you there which then raises the price of the room by 100-200 rps a day because you end up paying them off as well. Such a rip. Now Aaron is a nice person, nicer than I am, and after no sleep on a dirty bus I have the tendency to be even less nice so when the sneaky touts tried to hide behind walls and in lanes or linger on the steps below I went off as usual, I'm sure waking up half the people of Shimla at 6:30 in the morning.

We hiked and climbed and after a few tries the cat and mouse game ended with Aaron dropping his bags to outrun an old man - SO funny! It was a Forest Gump scene "Ruuun Aaaaaron ruuuun!". He ran the steps (the long way, I might add) and arrived at reception only to have the old tout huffing at the doorstep 20 seconds later. Aaron got the room and I followed behind yelling at the tout all the while as he was still trying to convince the hotel he had brought us there. Finally! We slept and plotted on how we were going to get out of Shimla.

A day and a half later, after seeing all there was to see in Shitla, we spent another 12 hours on local busses to get to Rishikesh. It was bad and honestly the past five days, India hasn't been dealing us any good cards at all. It goes with the territory and with the love hate so we'll chill in this uber hippie town deemed the "yoga capital of the universe" for a few more days trying to find some peace and zen in this trying country.

Absolute LOUD

2007-03-29T21:21:00.000-07:00

As much as I thought I would remember, I was still surprised with India noise. The honking, screeching, yelling, banging, bubbling, clashing and crashing, the barking, baying, beeping and just general overwhelming ear pollution surprised me - again. Delhi round three was a quicky and not overly exciting. After an ungodly departure hour from Bangkok we arrived with a few winks of sleep after a flight on Antarctica only to have to deal with the North Indian Rail reservation system that told me that there were two tourist quota seats left on the train to Amritsar but you had to pay in foreign currency.

"Well, I was robbed and have no foreign currency"
"Yes yes whichever you like, dollars, euros pounds"
"I don't have any of those"
"Oh well, this is the only way, I can put as (tap tap tap)...number 76/77 on the wait list"
"There must be a way you can issue me those seats"
"Oh no madame, for a foreign seat you must have foreign currency"
"Ok, well, we've gone over this. I don't have foreign currency - only rupees. How else can I get a ticket"
"Oh well well yes. Did you exchange money? Do you have a receipt?"
"Yes. Here"

A few more tappy tap taps later I handed over some rupees and cursed myself for coming back to this country. Why does EVERYTHING have to be SO difficult?

We killed the afternoon with an hour and a half of internet and three power cuts, some fresh chapats and paneer masala, book shopping and me in awe of all the missing cows. I mean literally: the cows are gone! Only a few months ago cows and cow patties littered the lanes and boulevards of Delhi but now there's new metal barricades up, and the streets aren't covered in veggie ends all the people provide for the cows, the dogs and rats that eat the veggie goods and of course all the cows! Amazingly the rotten produce and cow shit smell also went along with the cows. My guess would be that this has to do with the slow but ongoing preparations that Delhi is taking on in order to host the 2010 Commonwealth Games. Who's idea it was to let Delhi home this event is beyond me - Mumbai or Kolkatta or Bangalore would have been a more savory choice but alas - apparently their working on it.

We took the very classy and comfortable (Indian comfortable) Shtabdi Express train up to Amritsar in Punjab state where, when we finally arrived around 11pm, we proceed to sleep until 4pm the next afternoon. Amritsar is one of those Indian citys of just over a million that's typical India in every way and the only reason to make a stop there was to a) see the infamous, second only to the Taj, Sikh Golden Temple and b) head out to Attari to take a peek over at Pakistan and see the totally bazaar Indi-Paki guard stomp off.

We abated by all the rules of the temple by washing our feet and covering our heads (Aaron looked especially cute with his Golden Temple orange bandanna) and hit the heat and the crowds all lined up to pray to the temple, touch stuff and all the rest. The temple complex was amazing and surrounded by over 300 rooms that are offered free to not only Sikh pilgrims but anyone who is in need of a place to stay. We opted out of waiting in the 4hr plus line-up to get inside the actual temple seeing as we're not Sikh and it didn't mean the world to us but instead we chilled out under a tree and watched the action from the shade. Also attached to the temple and the free accommodation is a free kitchen where mass production of chapattis and dal and chai are in order. Anyone can eat at any hour and hoards of volunteers cook and clean and serve which is humbling to say the least. We lined up with the masses and ate on the floor and for such quantities of food it wasn't too bad at all. After eating we invited ourselves to check out the gigantic chapatti machine - only THE coolest thing I've seen in India thus far. Bags of flour and hot ovens miraculously pumped out chapats like nothing else! Amazing!

The Attari border show was a scene. A few thousand roudy Indians jumped and hooted and bollywood danced before the 20 minute stomp-a-thon of the Paki-Indi guards. Honestly I couldn't see anything, I don't think anyone could. It was so loud and the whole time was spent watching people jump out of their seats and stand up to see and then having the crowd control guards bleep their whistles and push them back to a sit. It was hilarious and probably more entertaining then the actual ceremony. Of course their was no "personal space", everyone wanted to take our picture, and the utter lack of self control exhibited by the Indian was so explanatory of their culture it made me laugh continuously.

So that's what happened. We jetted out of Amritsar on the most horrible local bus-bus combo that took us 12 hours in total - 6 of the hours I spent barfing in a bag due to India's sanitary standards and finally we are in McLeod Ganj, I'm better, the weather's fine and life goes on.

Justice in the Kok

2007-03-22T23:45:00.000-07:00

So getting robbed wasn't on the "to do in Bangkok" list but it happened anyway...

On the bus trip to Bangkok some terrible men did a terrible thing. As it happens more frequently than one would like to think a bus company (although not the one we had bought a ticket for - rather one we got shuffled onto after a sketchy bus-bus drop odd) had some professional thieves stowed away in the luggage compartment of the bus and as the innocent and fare paying passengers watched "The Rock" and slept sweetly they picked locks, rummaged, and nicked every last penny and card. It is unfortunate yes, but also not the worst thing that could have happened. Aaron and I were raped of about $200USD emergency money and one emergency Mastercard that of course was cancelled with ease but more upsetting was the fact that the thieves also took our souvenir money from Burma, Nepal, New Zealand, Singapore and the rupees we had ready for India - a very small sum of money and totally useless in Thailand. Bastards! On this bus ride we happened to make friends with a New Zealand/Canadian couple Shaun and Nadien who ended up at the same Bangkok guesthouse as us and of course, also got robbed. On a more severe scale than ours, their situation involved not only stolen cash (and perfume - weird) but a Visa TravelEx card that works like a loaded credit card but cannot be charged and needs a pin code to withdraw money. Little did they know but as the bus stopped for dinner in a small side of the road town Nadien's card code had been busted (somehow) and cleared out to the last penny. 80,000 Bhat (over 3,000 Cdn dollars) - enough to last her the rest of their 7 month trip and all the way to Vancouver where they will be moving in the fall. Not good, especially because of the fact that not only did they steal the card, crack the code (which she herself doesn't even know) and rock her for all she's worth... they put the card back! Unlike Nadien's card, Shaun's was stolen but they couldn't get into it, although they did attempt five times before the card shut down. Of course this became a major problem for them and when we saw them in the morning they were distraught with worry that the money would not be compensated with insurance from TravelEx. This is when the mission began.

After collecting our thoughts at lunch we made a plan and headed to file a report at the police station on Koh San - the middle of the Bangkok tourist ghetto. The kindly and cute police reception directed us to the "tourist police" which were a hundred bhat cab ride away - really far! We decided to see if we could get some more info on the bus... We went to the original bus company office where they told us were were surely not on one of their buses and that most of the other buses would be picking up people on the Koh San corner around 6pm that evening and we should see if we could identify the bus and get it's number and licence for our police report. "Ok. Good idea". We wandered down and waited... I though we were taking a stab in the dark but I was wrong. The bus showed up and we were certain it was the same one for the smashed up front and taped up headlights were all "same same". The driver and workers were NOT happy to see us. They knew what was going down: Justice in Bangkok. With cameras in hand we had a lengthy photo shoot of the bus and a few bad ones of the driver hiding behind the windshield ready to swing a metal bar at us.

"Ok ok, we need to get the cops". As Shaun and Aaron stayed to hold the bus as it was being loaded Nadien and I ran to grab a cop. Only one of us could fit on the back of the motorbike so she went and I ran back. As I came around the corner I ran into Shaun with a swollen and tearing eye and Aaron looking stunned.

"What happened?!?"
"They attacked me"

The workers/thieves of the bus had a flip out on Shaun when he snapped a few photos of their faces one tried to punch him and as he was holding him off the other got a good right swing in. After that they took off. Nadien tried finding the bus with the bike cop but returned after searching failed. We ended up back at the Koh San police station again, printed photos, and then were pushed in a taxi to go to the "tourist police". Three hours later, after explain the story about 45 times we left with little satisfaction and a copy of the report as a souvenir but of course, as most Asian cops go... there was little they could (would) do. We like to think the photos and report will help confirm the stealing of Nadien's money but a lot of effort yields only a little way here.

It leaves a bad taste of Thailand in my mouth but we'll be aight. It may sound crazy but we're going back to India. Why? Because I love India (and sorta hate it too). Next stop Delhi where it's smelly and curry will be in my belly!

Vacation from Vacation

2007-03-22T22:36:00.000-07:00

Koh Phan-Ngan Island, neighboring to Koh Tao was our home for the last eight days and nights and I apologize to all the regular blog readers about the lack of posting, but unlike the chaos of India there wasn't a lot to write home about. Anyway, we arrived on the Island and taxied to our originally planned beach of residence but found out very quickly that from the town where the truck dropped us and the beach of destination the dirt "foot path" was only negotiable with one of us on the motorbike (just), let alone with large backpacks. I ended up walking in the hot sun with my bag for a while up the hills and through the dirt and we decided to ditch the big bags at the bike shop and find a better beach. A couple of hours of exploring later we found Aoh Mae Haad where we got a bungalow and bunkered down for what was to be a very very stressful and trying eight days. Not.

A week went by in a blink. We made time for some off shore snorkeling at the nearby reef where it was said to be the best snorkeling on the island - but after diving didn't really compare. Cool nonetheless. And we also spent some time scooting to town for cold beers and chocolate milk shooters from the 7-11 and one day ventured to the other side of the island to check out the scene of Haat Rin where all the cool kids hang out. Unfortunately that mission ended only with a traffic ticket, a rain storm, getting stuck on multiple steep hills our scooty couldn't make it up, a crappy lunch and me eating a jar of olives from the grocery store. We called it quits as it just wasn't meant to be and besides, our bungalow was calling us back to enjoy bloody Mary's on the balcony. Apart from soaking up some sun and floating around on the gentle waves with Nemu we gathered all our energy at ventured to the "Black Moon" party one evening, around 1:30am. Koh Phan-Ngan is famous for its Full Moon party which of course happens on the full moon but they also make any sort of moon excuse to play trance or drum and base beats, fill party goers with buckets of vodka and redbull, and then have another "after party" the following night. It was entertaining but not exactly my scene but the people watching was right up there with Koh San Road. We stayed until five and got slightly lost getting home on the bike which all of sudden turned to another dirt road adventure but ended back in bed before sunrise. Phew.

So really there isn't much else. We met some nice peeps also hanging out on the same beach as us (Brits abroad, cocky Canadian, and humble German) that we frequented with but other than all the relaxing and book reading not a lot was accomplished - just as we planned. But do not fear! Our lazy days on the beach are over, we back to the Kok and if that's not thriller writing enough for you we're a few sleeps away from Delhi!

Finding Nemo

2007-03-13T03:20:00.000-07:00

Well, not Nemo exactly...but his equivalent Thai counterpart - Nemu

We left Myanmar and headed into the sticky heat of Bangkok where we spent two days enjoying street food, English movies, normal Internet, and consistent electricity. We also did some necessity shopping and it is with regret that I must tell you, the Hongger sunglasses have been replaced. They did me proud for over six months but the abuse of travelling has taken it's toll and honestly, I couldn't see through the lenses anymore. It's sad I know but the Dior's are now on the scene and giving me a new look.

We skipped out of the Kok and headed straight to the island of Koh Tao on the Eastern coast to jump right into the diving scene. Koh Tao is world famous for its fantastic dive sites so we signed up for the four day Open Water PADI course to certify ourselves to do some diving. The first two days were spent in the classroom and in the pool learning about all the gear and how to stay safe under extreme depths then the next days were spent on the boat and in the water with four open water dives. Our original group was slightly dysfunctional. It included
three "Brits abroad" (they're everywhere), a Dutch girl (who we nicknamed Titties...because, well...), a chain smoker from Montreal, and an Israeli girl... who I did not like so much. Our instructor was a character also from Israel but not particularly Israeli as he has been living and teaching on Koh Tao for the past four years which led me to check off one more item on Lifa's "to do" list. His name was Liran, he was hilarious and made the whole experience of diving stress free and relaxing. Anyway, after the first long classroom session the Brits abroad decided to booze it with their other buddy's and dropped our group to pick up with the next the following day. Down to five. We hit the pool and the Gods (if they exist) smiled upon me when Miss Israel couldn't handle the three meters of water pressure and had to stop diving. Down to four. Titties and Terry and me and Aaron. Our little group was great and because it was so small we got particular attention and spotted some not often seen marine life. We needed to pass a written test and then complete some skills in the ocean to complete the course and all that was no problem so in no time we were PADI certified and of course, wanted more.

After a day off to relax and catch up on some zzz's we started the Advanced Open Water course which involved a lot less classroom stuff and underwater skills and a lot more diving. We completed five more dives including a night dive, a navigation dive, and a deep dive to 30m. All good and the underwater world was just great. Some neat spots included a sea snake, a giant potato grouper, a baby puffer fish (and some big ones), a barracuda on the night dive, giant hermit crabs, and my favorite - Nemu and his family. It was all very exciting, exhilarating, and totally exhausting. While doing all the dive stuff we learned about the effects of nitrogen narcosis and decompression sickness both serious conditions that can happen when diving. Using tables and wheels we learned to calculate and plan our dives so that we are now certified to dive independently anywhere around the world.

It's hard to describe what it's like to be 30m underwater swimming amoung schools of fish and fending off the feisty triggers. I can see how it's addicting but like most super fun stuff - expensive! So alas, after nine dives we'll probably stick with the snorkeling for the rest of the time, although we've been told now that we're divers we'll end up unsatisfied. Tomorrow we're leaving for a neighboring island to just spend some time chilling out and having a few beers. Peace!

The Last Leg

2007-03-02T04:54:00.000-08:00

The foot paddler fishers and ancient ruins of stupas are what brings most people to Inle Lake but it has a lot more than just fish and payas if you go looking. Aaron and I only had one full day there so we made it big with a grandeur 8:45(ish) start on a dugout canoe longboat that we shared with a wacky Japanese guy who wore sandles with socks even though it was 30C and we were in a boat. The boat drivers know the tourist drill and took us around without hesitation to all the sites we just shouldn't miss and of course because of this fact Inle lake in general is a tourist hot spot and if you're seeing Myanmar with a tour group you'd be one of the many in the classy canoes. We didn't mind our shoddy boat and our first of the morning was at the very very touristic floating market. Originally the floating market was the once-every-five-days place where locals would meet up in their boats to sell and trade goods and produce but now it is mainly just tourist trinkets and the occasional "black market" gas station boat and maybe a few fruit and veggie vendors but pretty neat to see anyway. We didn't linger long and headed straight to the end of the lake up some makeshift dams and through the jungle canals until we reached Indein where more stupas live. The catch however was that these stupas were older than most in Myanmar and there was, well a whole lot. The pathway leading up the hill to the site was saturated beyond belief with stands to buy paintings, t-shirts, bowls, pants, singing frogs, and every other item possible to make in Myanmar. Aaron and I guess each stand must only get about one sale every two weeks - if that. The ruins were beautiful and we wandered by foot until I came close the getting my ass kicked by a cow who tried to headbutt me (don't worry, it was a small cow and I defended myself by hitting it in the head). We boat hopped again, braked for lunch and headed out on the lake again to see some more Stupas where I was reminded why I hate religion by not being allowed onto many of the final platforms to actually look at the Buddha or the stupid rocks they think look like Buddha. Aaron was disappointed when we confirmed the reason for female discrimination is because Buddha thinks that "men are higher status than women" - obviously. Even Buddha has some major flaws.

Some of the afternoon was spent visiting a weaving studio where we saw how they use lotus stems to create lotus thread which is then weaved into scarves that will run you at about 170USD - but wow, that thread work is tedious! We also stopped at a cigar making place where child labour was as its finest and a nine year old girl spent her time stuffing cerroots for the locals to spend their earnings on. It was interesting and sad to see that a lot of kids spend their only childhoods making tobacco products. A quick stop at the long-neck peoples shop, the jumping cat monastery, and through the floating gardens and the day was soon over. We enjoyed some dinners and beers and tried not to think about the looming bus ride that was waiting for us the next day...

The Bus...
I'm not really sure where to start. To get to the bus pick up we needed to get to the next town over (about 11km) for 12pm. This of course means we promptly left at 9:45 to find the spot where the shared pick-ups leave from. Found the truck no problem and began to wait...generally the trucks only go when they are full - meaning at least 25 people. Waiting, waiting, waiting... four other tourists were also waiting and as the truck filled up and we didn't start moving we realized we were being held hostage. Panning together we jumped out of the truck and decided to share a cab into town... but oh oh oh... the truck could go now. They collected our money and we waiting more until I started yelling "let's go! let's go! let's go!". Twelve more people packed on the roof, hanging off the sides and end of the truck and we bobbled down the road for half and hour. More waiting happened at the bus stop tea shop and after an hour and a half a bus finally stopped.

The guy jumped off and checked everyones tickets (at this point there were about ten people waiting at the stop). "Yes bus, no bus, no bus" ... he said. "Another bus is coming". We were one of the no's even though I asked three times so we waiting more. The next bus showed up and we gave the guy our ticket. He was confused, panicked, and as we waited in the beating sun we wondered what the fuss was. Eventually we got shoved on the bus but not in the right seats. Oh well. An hour or so later at a break stop we were shuffled from the second bus to the first which of course we were supposed to be on in the first place even though buddy said no no. We moved and I won't lie: the bus was a piece of shit.

Bucking and jerking along for hours along the "no roads" we broke down not once, not twice, but three times and on the final event we were told at 3 in the morning that were would be waiting for another bus... it could take hours. Great. I tried to get a very cramped nap while Aaron drank tea at a nearby shop but we didn't last long until we step up a little bed with sheets and and sleeping bag on the side of the road. The sun started to rise and the replacement bus finally arrived but not just any replacement bus - it was a regular old local bus. Are you kidding? No, no, not kidding. So just think: no food, no sleep, very very uncomfortable and then thrown on a local bus that stopped every other minuted to left people on and off. It was more than terrible. What was supposed to be a bad 18hour bus ride turned into a 27hour horror show that makes me want to cry just thinking about it. The moral to the story is: never take a bus in Myanmar.

We arrived back in Yangon, slept, and dreamt about the wonderful air con buses of Thailand we were soon to be riding...

We be Trekkin'

2007-03-02T04:53:00.000-08:00

Finally some good luck came our way. After a day catching up on some sleep and exploring the little town of Kalaw we started our two day one night trek in a village that just happened to be celebrating the novice monk initiation which happens, oh, about every 22 years or so - when the harvest is good enough to sustain feeding about 1000 people from outlying villages that come help out. It's quite a production. Mass eateries, kitchens, and tea making facilities are all set up, sparkly pink costumes for the monks are rented, horses and chair carriers are rented to parade the little monks around and it's all just a big party with smashing gongs and big drums and the like. We checked out the scene for a couple of hours and were invited into each and every home for food and tea - food food food. Eat eat eat all the time! We did help ourselves to liters of tea and sweet sticky rice, Aaron indulged in the pork curry while I sat wishing I had hollow legs to be able to fit all the food in.

From the monk festivities we moved on past the village monastery out into the rural farmlands of Myanmar. The breeze and semi cloud cover made the heat a bit more bearable as we walked through sparse villages and ginger fields. Our guide Tun-Ti spoke fluent English which made for some great conversation and explanations when we had questions about everything. He also brought along a cook who provided us with the best Myanmar food we had the entire trip - so good! Up some hills, down some hills we broke for lunch in a village where a family lent us their home to use the cooking facilities and Aaron became the big hit by playing a short video taken on his camera of that mornings festivities in a few villages over. A full belly of fried noodles later we trekked for another 3 hours to a remote village where is just happened to be the day they were completing the construction of a new house for a family - again a once in 40 years kind of deal! We helped carry a few of the last remaining items into the new house and joined everyone (an by everyone, I mean all the men - I made myself an exception) for more celebratory sticky rice and tea.

The people of the village rarely see many visitors so when an old old man we met stated :"People from Canada look different from people from Myanmar" it gave us a good laugh. We were asked what our houses were made of in Canada and if we had tin roofs or bamboo walls and if we ate betel or smoked cerroot cigars. They didn't know that Canada was a country or where to find it on a map or probably how to read a map at all but they were very inviting and honored to have us celebrate the completion of the new house. We spent the night with a local family where we enjoyed a lot more tea and shelling peanuts by the fire. That evening we slept under the watchful eye of the family Buddha and awoke in the morning to smoke and sizzling rice. Goodbyes were said and we were on the move again for another sweaty day of trekking.

While we walked Tun-Ti told us all about the local ways of farming, collecting wood, making bamboo mats and baskets, and just about everything to do with life in rural Myanmar. We learned that crab apple trees continue to grow even after you cut all their branches off, beetle larvae are good for eating, and some rocks you can eat for calcium - but not too much or else you'll have problems peeing. Around one o'clock we rested for lunch at one of the many canals leading into Inle lake. Our trek ended there and we were picked up by a boat which ferried us an hour and a half to the other side of the lake into the town of Nyaungshwe where we would base ourselves for the next two nights.

The experience in the hills, away from the dust and pollution of the cities was definitely a highlight of our time in Myanmar. The oodles of children that roam freely put it over the top because they are all just so cute. I don't know what it is...but so far they're winning the cutest kids award. With colourful matching turbans, the tribal peoples were so warm and welcoming that is was really touching to see such a preserved and tight community where neighbors actually help each other out. Rustic doesn't even begin to describe the living conditions of these places but somehow they are much warmer than any big city... ok, wah wah wah, gone off on the touchy feely stuff I know - but some people like that sort of thing.

Anyway, we be trekkin' and it be sweet.

Ssshhhtupas!

2007-03-02T04:41:00.000-08:00

Opting out of another bus we took the 5:30am boat to Mandalay and despite it being 12 hours it was surprisingly enjoyable. The boat was big, comfortable, empty and served beer - need I say more? We hung out on the outside deck most of the day soaking in the sun and stupa spotting on the shore until arriving in one of the dustiest cities I've ever been to. Unfortunately Mandalay is another city in which the government picks you off for another ten USD for seeing some of the main sites. Aaron and I avoided this junta donation by hiring a sly trishaw driver Jojo who knew which sites they didn't check for the tickets, which sites didn't require a ticket, and which sites a tickets check could be avoided by a back or side entrance. The locals seem to take a liking to you when they see how you try to avoid anything government as they do as well and Jojo was a heap of information on the extremely taboo subject of government happenings. As he said, it was a relief to get some feelings off his chest and vent a little as talking about it to other locals is forbidden and subject to fines or jail time. As an example, the day before Jojo was stopped by the police at the local market who then held his trishaw licence hostage until he ran around and paid a lawyer to get a statement and ran back to the police and paid them off 8,000k - triple of his earnings of a 12 hour day of work. Corrupt? Noooo, not at all. It's terrible for the people who work hard pay mounds of taxes and see nothing of their money except for the 60 airports around their country - 20 of which flights actually go to on occasion. As one guy said: "Our airport? It's for show. We don't get flights here".

With Jojo we toured around Mandalay seeing more Payas/Pagodas/Stupas, a monastery, a gold leaf factory, and in the evening climbing up to Mandalay hill where we were stopped at the final step for a ticket check - ouch! No worries though, we were still allowed to watch the sun set 10 inches below the ticket holders...that evening we went to the home of the famous Moustache Brothers, a comedic group that historically has pushed political jokes to the limit - so far that two of the three brothers have been jailed (one for 7 years!) for their views on the junta. Well, they've done their jail time and now pushed us for five bucks each to watch their show which has turned from a raging political rant (in Barmar) to a never ending list of English cliches and celebrity name dropping mixed in with some sexual innuendo. Mixed into the slurred Elmur Fud English was some traditional dancing by the Brothers' entourage of wives and sisters one of whom was the 1978 Lonely Planet cover girl for Burma - no doubt they were very proud and only mentioned this fact, I don't know, about 75 times? Needless to say we would have been more impressed if they didn't ding us for so much money - half would have been of value as there were a lot of people there watching - they're bound to be making what most locals do in a month every night! That night we avoided another meal of oily curry and found a Nepali joint that brought back the memories of dal bhat, parathas, and masala tea...mmmm! The next day we took a taxi 11km out of town to see the longest teak wood bridge in the world. It's still mainly teak but a few restorations have been made and some parts are now concrete. But it was long and it was teak and it was pretty neat.

Mandalay is home to about 60% of the Burmese monk population so the red robes are everywhere. Many of them come to the old capital to study which leads to many of them wanting to practice their English skills with tourists. Some are really cute, as when I lost Aaron in the "no women" section of the Mahamuni Paya I was scooped up by a monk who toured me around for a good half hour all the time talking. I understood about 1% of what he said all the time nodding and telling him how much I loved Buddha.

To our surprise, while we were trying to find a travel agent (that now doesn't exist), we stumbled upon a non-government shopping mall which had a grocery store on the lower floor. And now I know that Malaysia and Australia both provide Myanmar with it's chocolate needs - although not very affordable. We splurged of course and I got a little chocolate fix from the cheaper Malay version of "fruit and nut" which should hold me over until Thailand where chocolate roams freely! We also indulged in a few more giant avocados "toe-pa-di" and a pineapple "na-na-di" from the local vendors on the street who are practically giving the fruit away.

Mandalay was great but we could have used 3 or 4 extra days to explore the outlying towns by boat, but of course with only 28 days you have to pick and choose and we moved on. We made the mistake of letting our guard down and not throughly researching the bus options to Kalaw and ended up getting ripped off on our bus ticket that we bought from our hotel. It included transport to the bus station which took an hour and half hours to cover maybe 4km, the most cramped bus with no working parts and being dropped on the side of the road in the cold at 2:30am without a place to stay. We found a nice guesthouse but of course had to wake everyone up so we're slightly annoyed as we were told we would be arriving at about 6am. We got over it...although it took Aaron a little longer (and I think he's actually still a bit bitter). From Kalaw we arranged to trek for 2 days into Inle lake as the LP suggests - "it beats the bus" but really, anything in Burma beats the bus. So a night and a half in Kalaw later we were set and ready for some walking...

Where No Roads Go

2007-02-21T20:02:00.000-08:00

Life in Burma is filled with Pagodas and Buddha and rice. After 5 wonderful nights on Ngwe Saung beach where the sun and stars shine equally as bright we choked down a runny egg and powder coffee breakfast before trishawing into town to catch the 6am bus back to Yangon. Although my expectations were low, I admit I had a glimmer of hope that the bus wouldn't be as uncomfortable as the ride to the beach. But lone behold as we pulled into town there was good ol' mustard stripe. Instead of the back wheel this time we had the front, right behind the driver where knees easily reached chin and there's just no escape as people pile in through the front door to catch a ride. The Barmar soft rock was pumping, ladies were barfing in bags and well, the journey back was about the same comfort level as is was getting to the beach. Arriving in Yangon cramping and cranky we powered through a taxi ride to get to the other bus terminal (both of which are ridiculously far out of town) and managed to get some seats on the overnight bus heading to Bagan. The 15 hours to Bagan were horrid. Very little sleep, more barfing Burmese and soft classics, and oh, did I mention there was no road? It's strage, there are toll booths all over the place yet the money clearly does not go to the up-keep of the road. It would be better if they used all the bills that are constantly being handed over to fill the stupid holes. Maybe that would help. Seriously though, there just wasn't a road. We were driving through dense forest over a sort of "cleared path" all while in seats made for a Burmese person which is about equivelent to a 8 year old child. Comfortable!

Anyway, after arriving in one piece and many hours of sleeping we did a little exploring and arraged for a horse cart the next morning. Bagan is comparable to Cambodia's Ankor Watt or India's Hampi. It is a vast and open valley littered with thousands and thousands of temples. Some are big, some are small, some are locked and some are not, some are gold but most are just sandstone or brick but all of them are just totally incredible. The first day we did the "big hits" tour with the horse we named Yukon. Our driver was a relaxed guy and knew what he was doing in terms of temples so we didn't miss much. We made for a break halfway through the day at a roadside restaurant where we quickly made friends with everyone hanging out there. I got my make-up done while Aaron played soccer and we ate and ate and ate until it was no longer possible. Two Star Colas later we were back in the saddle, or cart anyway, to see more temples! Timing it just perfectly we joined the crowds on one of the larger temples with open upstairs stupas for a beautiful sunset. It's amazing to see and the pictures really do not do the area justice at all. To give you a small idea the Bagan kings built over 4400 temples in a 230 year period. Earthquakes, looters and general erosion have done some damage but the vast majority of the temples still remain holding strong - although UNESCO World Heritage has pulled out as a sponsor due to the uncooprative junta. Each temple houses many Buddha statues of which a large handful are consistantly being recovered in gold leaf and we like to hope that the ten dollars we pay to see the temples goes to their restoration...although more likely it's going to new unused airports and shopping centers (sigh).

After the first, very long, day we opted for a slower start the next morning and rented some shoddy bikes that lacked tred, gears or breaks... but Aaron's had a basket which he put his murse in. hehe. We hit the roads, well sandy dirt paths, and stumbled apon some great temples that probably haven't seen anyone in a while... the lesser known temples were preserved with beautiful paintings and murals and smiling Buddhas. It was peaceful and ultimately quiet being away from the main sites and we spent a lot of time just hanging around in some of our favorite spots, lounging on the stupas or chatting with the local temple guards and vendors.

While in Bagan we enjoyed a little change from rice and fried noodles with one night of Italian, one night Indian, and one night a mixture of things but it was really nice - especially the curry and chapats (secretly I miss India). A few souvineres later and a boat ticket to boot we've opted out of the bus and are taking the 12 hour boat-boat to Mandalay. As transport has prooved to take days longer then we originally though we are having to cut a few corners on our Myanmar circut without overstaying our welcome so instead of the overland route we'll be flying to Bangkok within the first week of March which leaves us a limited amount of time here. Gotta run!

Myanmar Eh?

2007-02-10T22:49:00.000-08:00

We have arrived in Myanmar (Burma) where there is very little english, Internet, or democracy. In Yangon, we spent the first three days trying to figure out where we were actually allowed to go in this country. The government tourist office gave us a straight up answer which we have concluded: pretty much no where. Our guide book, as wonderful as Lonely Planet is, couldn't garuntee anything and many of the locations we had hoped to get to are now off limits, have closed state borders or require a costly government "permit", a costly "guide", and a costly flight on one of the shoddy goverment owned airlines all of which has to be paid for in cold hard US cash. Not happening. As there are no banks or official money changers in Myanmar you have to travel with all the cash you think you'll need and the only way to get the local khat ("chat") currency is on the black market. The largest note that the khat comes in is 1,000 which is about $1CDN so after exchanging $250USD you can imagine the wads of bills we had... in fact, we had to by a special (pink) 'murse' (Aaron's man-purse) just to house all the khat. By asking the locals we have figured out ways to avoid financially supporting the junta as little as possible, althought complete avoidance is of course impossible.

In Yangon we visited a the Sule Pagoda which the center of the city was constructed around by the British and I bought a sparrow to free is for good luck which was pretty neat. Cute little birdie. We also caught the lastest Bollywood flick 'Krrish" playing at one of the cinimas with english subtitles! There was dancing of course and it was Aaron's real introduction into bizaar Hindi films - even though we were in Burma as our quest for some sweet Bollywood action had ended in failure in India. Wandering through the city streets which are clean and easy to navigate we found the market which was totally overwhelming. Full of gems and gold and shirts and skirts and everything weird you could imagine and having no one hassle you besides to say 'hello', well, it brought a tear to my eye.

Myanmar is a strange place, mainly I suppose, because we're not exposed at all to the culture. There's very little english spoken or signage which makes things challanging at times but the Burmese people are so kind, so friendly, won't rip you off at all and will try to help in any way they can. Also because of this factor Aaron and I are trying to learn some Barmar, our vocabulary is up to about 15 words and growing - better then my Hindi already. Longys are in for both men and women (although tied differently) and the women use powdered sandlewood paste called thanakha as make-up/sun screen. Of course we're trying to get all into it so Aaron bought a longy and I tried out the face stuff which drew much attention from the locals...everyone thought I was sooooooooooo beautiful! QMFM Barmar soft favorites are also in and everywhere you go, and I mean everywhere, there is a TV with endless tunes belting out with the words high-lighted to sing along to. A lot of the time there's a microphone. Sometimes it's funny but when it's 3am on the overnight bus to Bagan and you've been listening to this garbage for hours on end it makes you want to kill yourself. No one can sing and because the junta regulates all Myanmar music production every song is classic soft rock. It's like being at the dentist 24 hours a day. Another thing we've found a little odd is that in Burma, to get a waiters attention you make kissy sounds at them. Aaron gets a little carried away sometimes and the noises become accompanied by kissy faces as well but it's pretty funny to see all these men "smooootching" at the waiter.

Myanmar is home to giant avacados which really just make my day. Unfourtunatly the don't use them in everyday cooking - the cuisine is mainly fried everything or fried meat in oily oily "curry" but on occasion we've found an avacado and tomato salad on the menu... or my preference is to just buy the biggest one I can find, crack it open and eat it straight up. mmmmmm!!! To add to this delight they're also big on the ice cream which makes up for the fact that there is absolutely zero chocolate here. As there are trading sanctions with pretty much the entire world, I failed to connect this with the fact that this would mean no chocolate. A terrible catastrophe when I could have easily stocked up on fruit and nut bars in India. Foiled! Myanmar is also home to the oldest cars in existance. When the Bristish ruled the cars of course were driven on the left but shortly after independence the Burmese government decided to switch the driving from the left to the right so all the cars and busses still have the steering wheel on the right which makes for some sketchy driving and even sketchier passing. And when you get off a local bus instead of being dropped at the side of the rode, you're dropped in the middle of the road where scurring out of the way of oncoming traffic is a favorite pastime.

In general things are much more expensive then we expeced. As the junta has taken to charging all foriengers three times the regular local price the locals have adopted these ways aswell, although totally illigally. So, as if switching back and fourth from USD to khat isn't a pain enough we have to pay absurd amounts of money for things that aren't of any value at all. Transport is the main kicker as the busses are horrific and of poor value to the locals in the first place. But when you have to pay $9USD for the most uncomfortable local bus for a 6 hour roller-coaster, legs up to knees, trying not to vomit like half the other people ride it makes you just a little bitter. Food is good value in most places and few hotels but for the quality of a lot of the other stuff to travel in Burma is to get ripped off with the rest of the Burmese.

Ok, I may have trailed off there for a while on exactly what we've been doing. After Yangon we headed straight for the beach of Ngwe Saung where we hung out for four days swimming, reading, sleeping and learning barmar. Our little bamboo hut was delightful - right on the beach with a porch, hammock, and live in mouse who tried to steal my coconut hair oil every night. On occasion we hitched into town on the back of a motorbike or sometimes on a tri-shaw for some dinner and beers and one evening our hotel had a beach bonfire where we did some dancing, smoked some fish, and met some other travellers experiencing the same frustrations of Burma. But all is well and we're headed North to Bagan where one of the largest temple complexes in the world awaits.

For the Record

2007-02-10T21:34:00.000-08:00

Kolkata has THE most dysfunctional railway station I've encountered yet. For a city of massive proportion and growing the most central station where all the Southern trains collect it is an utter nightmare. Firstly, it's big city rip off the tourists time beyond anything comprehensible. Every single person that talked to us outright lied. It went like this: Aaron and I arrived at 8:30am after a sleepless overnighter. We knew that there was a pre-paid taxi stand outside the station somewhere... I asked information - "yes, outside to the right". We fend off 10 guys yelling at us for private taxis because the pre-paid didn't exist anymore. But oh yes, it existed. In a piss-hole building that was literally falling apart there was a queue to get a taxi. The catch was 1) the line didn't move at all and 2) the reason the line didn't move was because of the DUMBEST most brain dead absolutely asleep Indian I've ever seen. Glazed eyes, mouth open, and just stunned. Stunned. The Indian guy who was at the counter was yelling but nothing was happening. Totally useless. After concluding the situation was going nowhere we decided to join the even bigger queue outside of the station for a metered taxi. A driver approached us with an offer of 100rps for a ride to Sudder St. It should be 60rps, but we were tired of waiting so agreed. We walked to his cab where we then realized he expected us to cram into the same car as another Indian family. NOT impressed. We laughed in his face, told him to "go ---" and joined the meter cab line again. We were committed this time so as Aaron waited I went inside to get some samosas (another feat all to itself). As I came out with the bag in my hand and joined Aaron in the queue a beggar came up and started harassing and poking me, babbling in Bengali. I gestured for him to leave and turned...still the babbling and poking continued. So I warned him in English... "you are making a sorry mistake my friend! I am in NO MOOD for you right now... I'm going to cause a big scene if you don't GO AWAY!" My rant grew louder... louder... louder... " OK I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU AND NOW YOU'RE GOING TO REGRET IT BECAUSE HERE I GO! OH YAH THAT'S RIGHT THE POLICE ARE GOING TO COME OVER AND YOU'RE GOING TO GET IT AND I'M GOING TO LOVE IT AND YOU BETTER GO AWAY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY!" It worked like a charm, and like always ... a police officer came and the scene dissolved just as fast as it had started. I ate my samosa in peace.

For the record there were hundreds of other people stuffing there faces on the street and because of the colour of my skin I get harassed beyond belief? At that moment in time, even if India was a helpless orphan golden retriever puppy I still would have drop kicked it.

So after more waiting and waiting and waiting we pushed our way into a taxi by shoving our bags in the back and jumping in. "Sudder St. Meter!" Good ol' cabbie tries to pull off the fake meter turn on but didn't succeed. "Yah, hey buddy. If that meter says zero when we arrive you're not getting paid so you can just go ahead and turn it on". He obliges, embarrassed. We walked around annoyed and tired for some time until we found a room with a "clean enough" attached bathroom and enough space for one of us to stand up at a time. Later we found out that not only does the smell of piss waft in through the window when the breeze picks up but the quality piping allows for the piss smell to also waft right up from the floor in the bathroom. eeew!

Kolkata was only ridiculously frustrating because we actually had to accomplish normal day to day chores that would take about an hour in Canada but take 4 days in India. But again, for the record, compared to Delhi it was nothing. We started off on a treasure hunt to buy Cail a sitar which was an experience that included inspecting lots of different sitars, drinking chai, making deals and eventually getting to the post office. Aaron went Indian styles with the sitar on his head through the crowds until we found the beautiful and old colonial building which now houses the city's postal services. To big, too long, must wrap, must pack, must this, must that went on and we ended up spending over 2.5hrs just figuring out how to ship the thing home to Mel and Cail. We paid buddy to sew a custom diaper and pack it a little extra and after more chai, a few mosquito bites and some bananas we stumbled home.

More chores were slowly accomplished included getting Visas for Myanmar, paying a visit to the Geological Survey of India (no photos allowed), stocking up on cheap and plentiful drugs and first aid, shipping stuff home, getting money changed (the biggest pain in the ass ever), phone calls, Internet, CD burning and generally time consuming crap that didn't allow us much time to see the "sites" of Kolkata.

We treated ourselves to a night out on the town which started at a restaurant/bar that had live music and 25 waiters too many. Hindi and Bengali hits were the first act sung by Bollywood star wannabes and then...and then... the English band came on. Not only were Beatles covers being belted by an Indian rocker, to ice the cake this hootched out girl came on stage wearing skin tight white pants with criss-cross slits running all the way up and a tank top that was, well, revealing... the straightened and badly streaked hair and lip liner pushed her whole look over the top and when she started slurring the words of Venga Boys, well that was just the kicker - we left shortly.

And, for the record though, later that evening we dominated Tantra night club - only the hippest and coolest place to be seen. After a quick late night shopping spree to get Aaron some shoes we hit up Tantra. It was looking a little sad when we arrived at about quarter after 12 but the R&B and house hits kept coming and Aaron and I started the dance floor party in no time. Fun? Yes. The drinks were outrageously expensive and I mean, more than you would EVER pay at home but luckily because it was a week night we got away with no cover. Dominated.

Nothing much else to report except it rained. And yes, that's a big deal to me as I haven't felt a trickle since ... September? The two downpours flooded the city in a matter of minutes and people stopped working (even more, is that possible?). I actually kind of liked it and made use of the raincoat I've been toting for months.

Because of the escalating situation in Sri Lanka with the Tamil Tigers we decided to give it a miss and are heading to Myanmar (Burma), leaving the stink for the suppressed. We'll see how it goes as travel is limited, time is limited, and mostly everything is uncertain. Oooooh ... Exciting!

Cow, Cow, Cow, Buffalo!

2007-02-05T05:10:00.000-08:00

The Harwal Mail was no Japanese bullet but it chugged the 2130km from Chennai to Bhubaneswar. The two day journey started from Mamallapuram with a auto ride to the "bus station", eg: the side of the road, literally, where we jumped (again literally) onto the local bus heading North. I made it to the third step while Aaron hung on behind half in - half out while another Indian guy clung to him. It wasn't pretty. Actually the entire 2 hours on the bus wasn't pretty but Aaron made haste by playing a winking game with the local men and I just focused on not throwing up do to extreme air pollution going through the city. After a massive haggle struggle we then got another auto to the train station and settled in our berths for the long night ... and long day ahead. 21+ hours later I was sick of the train and we finally arrived for a night stop in Bhubaneswar. The following morning we caught yet another bus for an hour or so to the coastal town of Puri, hired another auto and were rewarded after some searching, to find a wonderful home stay family who rented a room to us for a great price. I cannot quite explain how cute they actually were. Cute doesn't do them justice.

Anyway, this brings you slightly closer to the world of travel I've been living for the past 5 months and for all those months I've been very lucky in avoiding the infamous "Delhi Belly" of India but because I only had one more week left to survive, India had another thing in mind and gave me one last kick in the pants with a single meal from the Pink Hotel Restaurant. Not good. Not good at all. I became increasingly ill through the night and we had to sacrifice the super-extreme 12 hour tour we were planning to do the next day. Aaron had to explain to them: "My wife, she is sick". So needless to say I spent a day moaning in bed and hitting up the antibiotics while Aaron played nurse and attended to my temperature spasms. The next afternoon I surfaced and we did some exploring to the local temple complex where we spied from the rooftop of the library across the street as in most temples, non-Hindus are not allowed in. It gave us a laugh to wonder where our 100rps donation to the library was going as they had about the same amount of books as a shelf in London Drugs and 99.9% of them looked to be over 50 years - most were over hundreds including the Sanskrit manuscripts that no one can read. The temple was interesting and was represented by the weirdest little saucer eyed, blinged out, bell shaking cartoon characters. I wish I had a photo but I don't... I did however buy a temple postcard for the collection. So weird. We checked out the local scene, where no whities go, and Aaron go a new shirt (too bad, the Mr. Bear Team didn't fit), I replaced my old bandanda with a sweet "I love my India" one, and we had some keychains made for our homestay family. Wandering down to the 'Indian' end of the beach we found a party and lots of really weird stuff with the Hello Kitty-Pokimon cross temple character on it. Weird.

Puri reminded me that we were back in the North. Much like any other Indian city it had it's "issues" with garbage, sewage, touts, a million stray dogs, people crashing bikes, used book stores that don't actually buy books (even though their big red sign says they do), stone aged - snail slow road construction, and cow patties everywhere. The worst part would have to be the oozing open shit hole that festers in the burning heat before slowing draining into the ocean. As you cross the bridge over it you can take a look at the people lined up to take a squat right in it. And people live right beside it! Ooze front property! Really, it made me throw-up in my mouth a little bit. The smell was bad bad bad. Coupled with the smell was the sight of dead turtles on the beach and dead humans being paraded in the streets. I know it's a cultural thing and I have no beef, I'm just saying it's hard to chock down your lassi when your looking at dead things all the time. Now it sounds like I'm really riding hard on Puri, and I am a little I guess but honestly it was a very quaint little spot. So quaint in fact the Austrian ski resort owner who also lived with our home stay family calls it home for 6 months of the year.

Because we missed our tour due to "the sickness" Aaron and I rented a scooter to see some of the select sights. But let me explain...Rickety Red wasn't just any scooter. Rickety Red was probably the most unsteady, shoddy, pinner little scooter you've ever seen. If Rickety Red and my bicycle were in the ring, I'd be betting on the bike for sure. I held on for dear life while Aaron tried to navigate minus a few clutch features such as a mirror, gas gauge, or breaks. We scooted the 40km up the coast to Kornark to see India's second most famous building after the Taj Mahal: The Sun Temple (another World Heritage - check!). It was originally built in the 13th century but destroyed once by the Portuguese and to finish her off even more, again by the Muslims. It has been somewhat reconstructed with the original pieces and it still an impressive sight. We wanted to get the full story on the temple so we hired a guide, otherwise known (to us) as Grandpa. Taking us around the site and forcing us to stand in flowers for very "Indian family" type photos Gramps gave us the history of the temple, the meanings behind the carvings and layout, and then proceeded to show us many of the very detailed Kama Sutra carvings that cover (and I mean COVER) the temple on every wall, step and nook. As he pointed out the "69! A very interesting position!" and the "face to face kissing with many women touching" Aaron and I wondered ... is this happening? Did we hire a 65 year old man to tour us through the temple of porn? I tried to get his voice on video but failed. It was SO SO SO funny. He explained to us the days of the week and times of the day for having relations - turned out to be 24/7 and because of this he also pointed out the better positions to "do it" in when the woman is pregnant. omg. I'll have to censor out the rest but I'm sure you get the picture. The temple was worthy stop and so was Gramps the guide until we had a little problem at the end agreeing on issues of money. Typical. We stopped at the beach on the way home to take in the surf and see more dead turtles then enjoyed a delicious meal, our last in Puri before another overnighter up to Kolkata.

Chip Chip, Clink Clink, Maa

2007-01-29T03:13:00.000-08:00

Ahhh, the sweet sounds of Mamallapuram... We arrived in the proclaimed hippie beach town with no expectations except for the fact that it was hippie, most places served beer, and it was home to not one but two World Heritage Sites (take that Lifa!). Splurging an extra few rupes we got a super clean room with a psychotic fan and bug screens to boot. Because Aaron picked up a cold in Pondy and promptly gave it to me by the time we arrived in Mamallapuram we were both feeling, well, not so hot. We spent some time sleeping and resting and I used about a roll of tp just blowing my nose. But the cold didn't keep us down for long and we celebrated Aaron's big 25 in style with beach lounging, beers, fresh seafood, and late night banana-nutella pancakes and more beers.

Besides blistering heat, the town had some other interesting traits going for it. Firstly the sculpting scene is totally out of control. A chip chip here and a chip chip there almost every second shop houses tiny to gigantic rock sculptures of Ganesha, Shiva, and Vishnu in all their traditional and very non-traditional poses, all sorts of animals, Kama sutra balls, candle holders, boxes, Buddhas and just about anything you want can be created if you're willing to wait a few days, weeks, or even months depending on the size and detail of the piece. The sound of chisel on rock echos through out the town from dawn until dusk and the sheer mass quantities that are produced are amazing. Because sculpting is a deep tradition rooted in Mamallapuram there is a museum to house some of the finer works that have been produced by local artists. We didn't escape without buying a dancing Ganesha which we (sort of) got ripped off on on because Aaron cut in on my supreme bargaining skills and agreed before I had sealed the deal...however, now after that and getting ripped off on a pineapple purchase and unwanted nails in his new shoes he's learned to let me do all the talking.

The "clink clink maa" of Mamallapuram comes from the beggars that have taken a liking to the tourist hangout. They wander around with their metal cups and clinking coins mulling "maa, maa". Now, I have no idea what "maa" means but my strategy on the matter was just saying it right back to them in their face. "Maa", "Maa!". Most of the time it ended up in laughter on their part. They think I'm crazy and don't come asking again cause they know they'll just get "Maa!". Ha ha ha ha. Maa.

After a few days of recovery and lounging in the 'Blue Elephant' restaurant which played all the lastest rap hits (we were almost sure it was DJ PJ spinning) we decided to go templing. Our attempts to find a bicycle rental place failed miserably as no one here really works and you know, it was Sunday and all so we huffed it by foot to see some of the major temples in the area (there are a few dozen all together). We visited the Five Retha's which are five different temples dedicated to different Gods, each temple being carved out of a single piece of rock and all still being attached to the bedrock below. The temples were only uncovered by the British 200 years ago so they are beautifully preserved with bulls, elephants and lions guarding the sites which made for some nice rabies-free animal petting. We then wandered to the Shore Temple after Aaron got ripped off buying a crappy pineapple and I avoided being a part of Indian families photographs. The Shore temple is about 300m from the Bay of Bengal and after the tsunami, is now protected by a very large wall of rocks. The temple itself is small and "romantic" as the LP describes but also very very old and in pretty great condition considering it gets battered by wind, waves and a double monsoon every year. The setting sun provided some great lighting and yes, for a moment in time the LP was right... it was a little romantic. We stopped on some other temples, caves, carvings and lighthouses but without a bike the higher than normal heat was making my back/butt sweat a little too noticeable and we retired to a nice cold shower.

But alas, I must go. We're leaving Tamil Nadu for Orissa. A two day, 21hr+ train ride awaits...all the way up to Puri.

To Ponder a Cherry

2007-01-24T22:01:00.000-08:00

After a very bumpy and sleepless bus ride Aaron and I arrived on the East coast of India in the very French and very colonial Pondicherry. Amazed by the cleanliness and clearly marked street signs and numbers (even numbers!) we did a lot of wandering and some chores and enjoyed some deliciously cold beers on one of the many rooftop restaurants dedicated for whitey pleasures. Aaaaah! The French are wonderful people! The city is somewhat divided in an East - West way, the French being in the East and the more Indian/Tamil areas being in the West. We spent most of our time in Le East but checked out the Tamil side for knock-off DVD's and other necessities. Besides exploring, we visited one of the many Ashrams in the city which unfortunately was completely off limits to photographs. The inside of the grounds were the most peaceful place of been in India to date, even more peaceful than Buddha's Bodhi tree of enlightenment. There were beautifully manicured gardens and potted flowers beyond the imagination and many people, both foreigner and Indian, meditating and praying and being flexible. The Ashram was founded by a woman known as "The Mother" who apparently knows everything about everything and can answer any questions you may ponder. Like, "why are there no cherries in Pondicherry?". Anyway, there were a million pictures of her and books written by her, or more like books with answers to questions people had asked her and generally the whole town of Pondicherry is pretty much obsessed with her. We also visited the extremely expensive (2rps) history museum which houses all sorts of old stuff in an old colonial house. Coins, beads, pottery, furniture, maps, statues and to Aaron's delight, a very large rock collection (I thanked my lucky stars it was so hot or we would have been there for hours - phew!). After the Ashram and the rocks we were so tuckered out by the heat we once again rewarded ourselves with some cold beers. Not a bad life here in Pondicherry.

Since the city was checked off the list we decided to check out what the outskirts have to offer in terms of beachy goodness. We rented a scooty for the day and after a sketchy exit through the city and to the gas pump we escaped onto the open road that hugged the Bay of Bengal. It was hot and gorgeous. Palm trees and fields lined the road that connected to more narrow arteries that lead us through friendly villages down to the sands. The majority of beach space it used for fishing boats and nets and loading fish but the uncovered parts yielded soft sand and a very nice place to dip your feet. The currents were too strong for swimming but a good splash was all that was needed for a refreshing cool down. We found what we think was "serenity beach" (but who knows really, all the signs were in Hindi) and settled under a hut with no one else in sight for a lunch of baguettes and cheese and croissants (so French, Anne would be proud) then proceeded to nap in the shade as any respectable Pondicherrian would do between the hours of 2pm and 5pm (the city shuts down).

In many of the town we went through there was government housing of white, slanted roof buildings to replace those destroyed in the tsunami and many of the fishing boats on shore and out on the water were Red Cross, World Vision and Salvation army donations. However is seems that there is little destruction left on the coast and most structures have been rebuilt or moved. The people in the towns were so warm and friendly and a little surprised to see foreigners scooting in their village.

We ended our French interlude with a delicious and oh so romantic dinner at Rendezvous in celebration of my (long ago) birthday that Aaron missed. Calamari and wine and chocolate mousse were all on the list and we out la-la-ed everyone else in the restaurant by far. Now it's time for us to depart on a not so la la local bus to our next stop up the coast. Peace out from Pondy!

Madurai to BOoty!

2007-01-20T23:46:00.000-08:00

So Aaron may be faster at blogging than I am but if you want the real story of what went down, you'll just have to wait. The real story goes like this:

We left lovely Varkala for a smelly overnight train to Madurai where we proceeded to get lost at 4:30am then finally found a place that had a room (squat and very sticky toilet and all) that was open (sort of) at 5 in the morning. Of course we show up in one of the holiest cities in India during a 5 day annual pilgrimage festival where thousands of holy men dressed all in black swarm the city and the temples and the train and the streets and everywhere running and hooting and generally being Indian. We spent much of our first day there catching up on some zzz's then figuring how we were going to get out of the city to Ooty... and GAH! India! Screwed me again! After shuffling to the train station to travel agents and back again we settled on buying an overnight bus ticket direct to Ooty. Sweet. Done. But no. That night "rat-ta-tat-tat" on our door. Aaron's in bed reading, I'm in PJ's.

"What?" (to some random guy)
"Problem. No bus."
"What do you mean 'no bus'?"
"Bus have problem. Not going"
He hands me a note for the original travel agent we booked with. blah blah blah.
"Okkkkkkkkaaaay."
"You take train"
"Okkkkkkkkaaaay."

After filling out a few train forms and one emergency request form and agreeing to see buddy first thing in the morning I gave up. Dammit! India! The sun rose and we went to have a chat about this whole train thing seeing as all the trains were totally booked due to the festival.

"So you're going to try to get us on the train to Mallapuram where we will then have to take a 5+ hour local bus up the mountain to Ooty?"
"Yes, this is correct"
"Ok, how much does the train cost?"
"140rps for sleeper class, each person"
"Alright, so will you be giving us back some of the 600rps we gave you for the bus tickets?"
"Ahhhh, well, it is very very hard to get a train ticket. We have to pay many people."
"Yes, I understand this. But it does not cost 600rps."

This goes on.... 100rps later I fold. Gah! India!

Buddy hands me the train ticket. Number 82 and 83 on the wait list....great.

"You're kidding right?"
"No no. You come tonight and I will tell you which berth you are in"
"Fine"

Later that evening, hours before the train leaves we check in. Again.

"S2. Berth 22" He says.
"22 and.....?"
"Only one. Very very hard to get this"
"So you're saying I'm paying you over twice as much as this is supposed to cost for one tiny sleeper that two people are supposed to fit in?"
"Yes very very hard to get"

Dammit! India! Needless to say, it was a very tight overnight.

Madurai didn't have a whole lot to offer besides the breathtaking temple complex that justifies the city itself. We spent a morning wandering the hand carved and painted temples, shrines and courtyards watching the massive bussle going on around the festival happenings. The women were looking their best in beautiful saris with matching bangles of course and the men, well they were looking like men. We jumped right in and made some flower offerings to Ganesh and Shiva, were blessed with tikka lines, posed for pictures, and Aaron even got a blessing from the temple elephant (his first elephant blessing - it went well). We also made an attempt to see the super sound and light show at the City Palace but we arrived to find that it had been closed for maintenance "By Order of the State!". That was a miss and the palace was ugly anyway. Instead we jumped in a rickshaw to take us for a little city tour for an hour - clearly demanding we DID NOT want to go see the water tank. Twenty minutes of struggled peddling later... the freaking water tank! Dammit! India! We didn't even have a chance to look at it before we were kicked off the sidewalk by a police officer - reason unknown. The "tour" didn't show us much else, ended early and failed to drop us at the agreed place so we wandered the busy streets fending off silk and gold vendors until we found our smelly little room.

Getting to Ooty was interesting. The train was smaller than any I've been on so far (only 6 bunks per room) and the bunks were about two thirds the size of regular bunks...then there was the matter of myself and Aaron having to sleep in just one. We arrived in a pit-stop city at 4:30am where we were originally going to get a local bus up the mountains to Ooty (2245m) but when to British women approached us with the idea of splitting the cost of a minibus we jumped in. Ooty was a great little town with a similar feel to Darjeeling. The days were warm and the nights were chhhhiiiiiilllllyyyyy! We got a great room with a lake view just on the outskirts of the town and spent our few days there wandering the markets and streets buying home made cashew nut chocolate and bananas, seeing the "world famous" thread museum where a man from Kerala created lifelike flowers and plants using only thread and doing all the work only by hand with over 60 million meters of thread used (wild!), and also spent a day trekking in the hills and visiting Toda villages where I once again learned: Indian children don't share, only fight - after trying once again to bring joy with Canada balloons. No go. Trekking over the mountains and looking into the valleys provided a very clear explanation as to why my nose was black every night and my throat sore every morning. The pollution was overwhelming and hung in the valley with an L.A smog type presence. The people of Ooty were the ones who gave it it's real charm as they were warm and very welcoming. Although it was a great stop and well worth the squished train ride we left on the miniture train to catch a bus over to the Eaaaaaaasssst Ssssiiiiiddddeeee to ponder cherries next.

The Horror

2007-01-09T03:01:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning, spidey sense tingling: something is terribly terribly wrong. Not only am I all alone in bed, sprawled like I've never sprawled before but somethings askew... somethings not quite right. I walked to the window and pulled the curtain. Looked up.

"WHAT. THE HELL. is THAT?" I asked aloud looking at the sky and pondering these white fluffy things floating around like it was there business to be there. "omg. Is that...a...a...cloud?". Seeing as I haven't seen rain since September or thought about the weather at all for that matter I almost had a heart attack right then and there. "Now now, don't panic" I told myself. "Just a few clouds is all". Well, I was optimistic in my thinking and headed out for breakfast and to the beach where I could still see the clouds looming. ew. A few hours of swimming and relaxing went by. I watched an enormous school? pod? group? party? of dolphins swim by with the occasional leap - there must have been as least 200 (not exaggerating) and with the passing of the dolphins I decided I'd had enough sun. And just in time too. As I walked up the steps of the beach I thought I felt a little wetness, just there, on my arm. I credited the overhead crow for good aim and waddled on. A minute later, another bulls eye? NO! NO! NO! It was a RAINDROP! The sky greyed over and more clouds rolled in and it began to "rain". Well, us Canucks wouldn't consider it rain per se but about 25 drops fell over 10 minutes. That was the big event for the day (you know, besides blogging).

I'm here on the North Cliff of Varkala beach where Mum spent her last days in India. She left me in tears yesterday for a long journey back home but only to be replaced by Cocky the cockroach. Cocky moved on in, uninvited I might add, as soon as Mum left. I had a gentle but stern talk with him about how he wasn't welcome to live with me and I would give him until I returned from dinner to pack up and move on out. He didn't heed the advice and instead relocated from the ceiling to the bathroom where his life almost ended in violence but I managed, after much strategising, to get him out unharmed. Now I'm all alone and missing Mom but not Cocky. Varkala is a hippy-resorty place where yoga, rekki, auyrvaedic healing, healthy eating and an all natural way of life is all the rage. Put this together with the view and it makes for the most expensive spot in India thus far but probably worth hanging out in and healing all my India woes like grubby feet and bad tan lines (sigh). I managed to find a little room at "Santaclause Resort" (yes, it's actually called Santaclause Resort. These Indians are very creative) where a tiny but nice room goes for 500rps. Now I'm waiting like a sitting duck for Aaron to arrive on Thursday. Next stop: La La Land.

Jamie Kelly, always good times

2007-01-07T03:27:00.000-08:00

It's stange how you forget how precioius life is until one close to you is taken.

As many of you already know Jamie Kelly was killed in a tragic car accident on December 27, 2006. Jamie was one of the UBC Women's Ultimate team coaches in 2006 and with the lead of his wife Steph, helped take the team to National for the first time in five years. Not only was he one the the funniest, most fun, and downright outragious people I've ever met he was a great friend and a great mentor both on and off the field.

Jamie, where ever you are, you are loved and will always be missed.

Backwaters Back - Alright!

2007-01-04T05:03:00.000-08:00

Fort Chocin (or Kochi) was a great stop and we could have easily stayed an extra day or two to just wander and soak up the Keralan culture which oozes from the backwater areas. It wasn't all bells and whistles when we arrived however as the Indian holidays were still going and the place was packed, including all the hotels. After a savage fight with the reception guy at Spencer Home we were shuffled to Oy's home stay where the last room available was up the stairs and through a trapdoor! So strange but we settled, obviously paying way too much for the high season time. Anyway, we spent three days exploring the town making the cultural stops at India's oldest church and other such Portuguese hot spots and by the time we left the kids were back in school and the hords of Indian familys were back to buisness of normal life.

We also hit up Jew Town (yes, it's actually called Jew Town) and the spice market where we got the inside scoop with our super rickshaw driver (or Ferarri driver as they like to call themselves here) who took us to all the wholesale spice producers and even a ginger factory! Kochi is one island among four, just of the mainland so there is lots of fishing, lots of man-made beaches, and lots and lots of garbage (obviously something I just can't get over). After checking out the old-school Chinese fishing nets and the tittery old boats we got somewhat lost in the town and managed to backtrack our way home by the delicious smells of all the great restaurants that are spotted around the touristy area.

People come from all over the world (and India) just to explore the Keralan backwaters, which are a series of islands, lake and canals that run along the South Keralan coast where salty sea water mixes with fresh creating beautiful estuaries that run deep into the mainland. Opting for the ultimate backwater experience we took a seven hour tour encompassing both a canoe and a traditional houseboat. The day started at 10am with one of the worst drivers I've encountered who took us to the canoe portion of the trip. We cruised the narrow canals for an hour or so and stopped at a coconut plantation where we watched felling and participated in the drinking and eating part... Kerala does mean 'land of many coconuts'. Paddling back we ducked under some trees, saw some Kingfisher birds and water snakes and were generally amazed with the diversity of the plant life. We were then shuffled further down the backwaters to where our beautiful houseboat was waiting with lunch. A tasty tasty meal later we took off on some of larger lakes and canals visiting an island super-factory. Tiny mussel type shell creatures are fished for the markets and their shells are left behind in heaps where they are burned to bits then magically turned into calcium with just water (no one could figure it out, but the whole process what really neat) then the calcium is processed to make pills, whitewash, fertilizer and a handful of other stuff.

More relaxing, chai, and a sunset later were were back in the van with the terrible driver who was blearing Backstreet Boys AND Venga Boys (where do they get this stuff??) It was hilarious! (Lifa, we would have rocked that van but my Mom didn't know the words). As Hindus will use just about anything as an excuse for a festival we had to stop on the way back and check out the happenings at the most psychotic blingged out temple I've seen yet. There was crazy music, dance, and dressed up elephants - don't worry I took a video. So great. To add to the chaos there were about a million fireworks which looked more like land mines lined perfectly even along the outskirts of the temple and all the way down the main road for about 3km! ... we wanted to stay for the explosions but our driver wanted to jet seeing as they said the show would start in half an hour which in Indian time is probably about an hour and a half. Ah well, I'm sure I'll catch another firework temple explosion another time...

The next stop is Varkala where we'll relax for Mom's last few days in India...

It's Not Every Day...

2007-01-01T03:06:00.000-08:00

Seeing as Mysore was a bust we were eager to get out of Sari-land and into the wild! Well, wild is what we got as we drove into the district of Wayanad, Kerala. Living the high life we hired a driver to take us to Kalpetta, a small town that serves as one of the bases into the Wayanad Wildlife Sanctuary. We tooted along in our little car (think Whitey, only new and working) through the jungles and lush forests of Kerala. I rocked out to my ipod while Mom held on the the "holy-shit" handles and worried about there not being any seat belts (ever). We were doing just fine until we turned a corner and the driver slammed on the breaks to a halt. I was half snoozing and wondered what was going on until Mom pointed out the front windshield of the car to a very very angry elephant charging full speed ahead at our car. As soon as I blinked the driver was reversing like a mad man as fast as the car could go back and behind the corner until the elephant let up. I was in awe, the driver was beading with sweat and Mom was shitting her pants. Moments later a local bus drove by and we shadowed it past the angry 'annah' (that would be how you say elephant in the local dialect) and there standing on the edge of the jungle were two more big annahs and two itty bitty babies! Thrilled to bits I couldn't understand why Mom was so spooked and wanted to tip the driver and extra hundred rupes for bailing us out of there - fast! ... "Well Francie! It's not every day you're charged by an elephant!".

Because 'a watched pot never boils' the day we went into the actually sanctuary we didn't see any angry herds of elephants, or any babies - just one male loner looking rather blue by himself at a watering hole. But it was no waste. We were the first Jeep into the park at 5:45am and we spotted a lot of animals: deer, peacocks, gigantic squirrels, and lots of other critters I don't even know the name of. There are many tigers in the park and we found some fresh tracks but no tiggers attached as they are mainly nocturnal and tend to hide from the noisy Jeeps. Our driver/sudo-guide was great and apres the early morning sanctuary took us to a delicious joint for some quality Indian breakfast and chai. We then headed out to the 3,000 year old Edakkal Caves that overlook almost all of Kerala. We climbed the hill and the steps all the way to the caves which proved the effort worth while. They were beautiful and massive and steaming with hidden history. The caves were created by an earthquake which caused giant boulders to wedge in between large gulley's and this is also how they got their name: "Boulder stuck in between rocks". There were some carvings of "man", "woman", "dog" etc still preserved in the caves which was my first good look at cave art - very prehistoric and stunning.

We continued our tour through the wandering valleys and hills of Wayanad which is by far the most beautiful and lucious place in India I've seen so far. Green of every shade and shape protruded everywhere and we learned of all the agricultural produce that Keralans labor over every day. Things like rubber, coffee, papaya, pineapple, mango, cashews, ginger, tapioca, rice, tea and a million different spices. So delicious. No wonder I'm getting so fat here, the food is just so good. Our last stop took us to one of the three major water falls in the area which like any other place in India it totally stunning and covered in garbage. Either way, it was a great way to end a fantastic experience in Northern Kerala.

The next day we took off to Calicut for an overnight pit stop on one of the most comfortable beds I've had in a loooong time. We celebrated the New Year with a buffet dinner where of course I ate way too much and watching the ball drop on our fellow Goa partiers we rang in 2007. We hit the hay right after that as there was no time to waste - onto Fort Cochin (Kochi) at 6:40am. Hope your New Years celebrations were safe and happy and here's to a great start to 2007.

A Bangalorious Christmas!

2006-12-25T02:52:00.000-08:00

Being in India is a lot like being a part of a dysfucntional family. You're in it so you just learn to love it and once you learn to love it, well, you just can't get enough of it! But that being said, there are at times (many times) that your only wish in the whole entire world would to be a part of a normal family. ahhhh, dysfunctional India.

Santa found me amoungst the millions of Hindus here in Bangalore and Christmas passed just like it would any other day with the exception of a new Calvin and Hobbes book and an Economist magazine. There were crowded streets and sales as apparently the provincial government of Karnataka deems the Christian holiday an excuse enough for a long weekend so the Christmas crowds were out just like they would be anywhere else - we couldn't even get into a movie!

Mom and I spent the morning at the train station pushing our way through to get a ticket to Mysore and then the afternoon at the local city market. The market turned out to be one of those little rewards India gives you just when you want to punch it in the face. With not another white person for miles we were treated like celebs while we wandered the busy asiles of light-up dancing Ganeshes, tikka powder, sweets and treats, flowers, veggies and fruit and of course, bangles. Everyone was so friendly and didn't try to sell us anything as nothing there was really of any use to us so they just wanted their picture taken and to talk. Hours passed in a flash and my camera was soon drained of power so we moved on to the main hussle of Bangalore, MG Road.

MG and Brigade Roads are kind of like the equivillent to Vancouver's Robson or Toronto's Young so there are a plenty of designer stores fancy lounges, restaurants, bars, and a fashionable and very non-traditional generation of young Indians with money from the booming hi-tech industry. A little different from Delhi. For a big city it was actually not too smelly or full of trash and for the most part there was very little staring with one exeption that got me thinking...

I was walking down a congested street, Mum was lagging a little behind and in front of me there was a group of, I would guess, 18 to 20 year olds, two guys and two girls. One of the guys while trying to keep up with his peers turned around about six times to stare directly at me. Stare. Stare. Stare. Stare. Stare. Stare. For seconds he held the stare before glancing to see where the hell he was walking. I caught up slowly (as he had slowed to stare as well)

"Do you have a problem with me?"
"No! No! I have no problem."
"Then why are you staring at me."
"I am not staring. I do not mean to stare."
"Well you ARE staring. Why do you stare?"
"I am staring at your freedom."

I was stunned. He left as I turned the corner to go the other way and I haven't been able to shake the expression. Staring at my freedom.

After a short train ride we've arrived in Mysore, which according to the Lonely Planet "has a way with travellers, who tend to stay a while and become enchanted by the city". Now, I don't take the Lonely Planet suggestions to heart but I expect them to be in the ballpark so after trudging around the hellish and noisy streets of Mysore looking for a place to stay, only to be turned down from about 5 hotels until we found one, my immpressions did not get off to a stellar start. The following day made no massive turn arounds with the execption of finding a good bank machine, super-awesome Ganesh stickers for my journal, and finding a way out of the totally overflowing and crammed with Indian tourists buying saris, silk and sandlewood oil city. Our attempt to go see the biggest attraction in town: The Palace, failed as they wouldn't let me inside with a camera and I didn't trust the suspicious "camera check" system. We walked around the goddy outside and concluded we were not missing much on the in as tourists are only allowed in a handful of the rooms. Palace, schmalace. The conclusion for Mysore is that it isn't even worthy of a picture on the blog.

Rocks and Temples

2006-12-24T02:17:00.000-08:00

After being lulled into a deep, almost unconscious state of relaxation by the lapping waves of the Arabian Sea on Palolem and becoming a little pudgy from the delicious buttered chicken and banoffee pie I was kick started quickly when I had to pack my backpack for the first time in three long and wonderful weeks. The whole frenzy and thought of it made my head hurt. It is not to say I haven't done anything for the entire time, just not a lot that requires thinking.

Goa highlights of the past few days with the Mo included a big day out to the very old Portuguese churches of Old Goa (another World Heritage Site - check!) and then another trip up to Anjuna for the Wednesday flea market where of course, I bought more earrings and Mom wandered around wide-eyed and bushy tailed in amazement of all the "stuff" they sell there. We had a great time and were totally exhausted by the time we returned to our hut just in time for sunset. The following day we went to see the dolphins who were wonderfully cooperative and put on a great show for us jumping and flipping their tails and all the rest - very cute.

As I waved goodbye to the 'coconut-papaya-pineapple-watermelon' guys I almost shed a tear as we started off on an overnight bus to Hampi. Now, in India, you can ask for one thing, pay for another, and expect another but you really really really, never know what you're going to get. As an intro into the absurd Indian bus system I opted to take Mum on the AC chair overnighter, so I paid a little extra. Instead what I got was a chair with a crazy Indian woman already in it, a fight with the bus conductor over an "extra luggage charge", a cockroach infested bus (yes, they were crawling out of the cracked laminate walls), NO air conditioning, and close to one of the worst bus rides in history - although, not nearly as bad as getting to Kathmandu. We survived and arrived in Hampi sans any permanent damage. But eew.

Hampi, like the caves of Ajanta, was well worth the detour and we spent two peaceful days exploring the bolder strewn landscape and the hundreds of ancient temples. In the 15th century Hampi was one of the largest Hindu Empires but was ransacked by Deccan sultanates and has only fairly recently become inhabited by the local population again. It's small and quiet and has a very holy feeling. We hired the cutest rickshaw driver in the world, who played all the latest Bollywood hits from Don and Doom 2 to take us templing for the day. We saw many Vishnu's, Lingam's, Ganesh's and lots and lots of rocks - big ones, little ones, perched ones, cut ones, rocks stacked, rocks carved, rocks rocks rocks ... Aaron would have liked it. hehe. We ended our Hampi adventure with a climb up some boulders to a wonderful view of the sunset and a tiny little temple created out of the caverns of fallen boulders where a polio stricken holy man survives on temple donations. We shuffled under the big rocks into the dark but candle lit cave for a blessing and some Karma sugar balls. A moving way to conclude an amazing day.

Although it was a Saturday and all the Indian tourists were out with their millions of children and grandmothers and pubescent teenage boys I found I only got a fraction of the staring I usually would with Lifa, and to this I credit the protection of a Mother. It was great. The weird Indian men only hassled other solo white girls to be in their pictures. And because of the official warning issued by the Israeli government for all Israeli travellers to leave Goa and the surrounding areas due to terrorist attacks targeted at Israelis there was a surprising peacefulness about the whole place which is usually filled with them. (Or so I heard from many other travellers)

We are now on the move again and after another, but hopefully the last, overnight bus trip we are in the hi-tech capital of India for Christmas. It's festive and funny to see elephants with hats on but will do for a make-shift holiday away from friends and family. There are all the familiar big city attractions like McIndia, cinemas, Forts and unruly rickshaw drivers but there's also an array of nice restaurants and clean streets.

I know I'm missing the annual and very epic Hibbert boxing day party and I'm sad. So for those of you wondering what I'm up to while you're partying your faces off in the sweaty basement you can see for yourself. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3wGhqOFJ-xE

Merry Christmas and Happy Boxing Day party! Peace and Love!

A Parental Interlude

2006-12-18T01:10:00.000-08:00

I think it's safe to say that not every Mother would travel half a world away to see their daughter. I think it's also unlikely that they would come to India (of all places) but as most of us know: my Mom is an exception to many rules.

My Mother (Mo, the Mo, Mobert, Mom, Mum, or Eddie) is spending a little over 3 weeks with me in Southern India. After a grueling 3 days of tic-tac-toe travel she's made it to Palolem beach to relax for a few days then venture away from the beautiful sands and waters into "real" India all the way down to the Southern most tip in the Province/State of Kerala. At least, that is the plan.

With the arrival of the Mo came a fresh supply of Western wonders! Purdy's chocolate! Oreo cookies! Toblerone! Sour keys! Multi-vitamins! Hair elastics! Hand sani! Zip-lock bags! ... I had an early Christmas and please, don't ever expect yours to be as good. You'll only be disappointed. Of course with all the new provisions, Mum also brought the gentle and incessant nagging only a Mother can (brush your teeth, wear sunscreen, wash your hands etc etc.)... I'm only kidding, I think she's really cute. I will now teach her the ways of India, the Indians, and how to not get sick in this overwhelmingly filthy but wonderful country.

Jus has lost her Fa

2006-12-14T21:29:00.000-08:00

Just thought I'd make you a litte more jealous with a few more photos.

Muuuwah ha ha ha ha ha.

ok, so it's sad but true. My Fa is gone and all that remains is Jus. We celebrated Lifa's last night in Goa and last night with her Jus with the Palolem Pub Crawl. Starting at around 5pm we hit up the Southern most restaurant/bar with only one goal in mind: have a drink at every place along the beach. The rules were as follows:

1. A drink must be had at every place going from South to North
2. Both Jus and Fa are allowed 2 bar Vito's each (that means we skip them altogether)
3. Both Jus and Fa are allowed one water break where you don't have to drink
4. GT's must be had by all

We were of the mark by 4am as we had made it to only 9 of the 50+ bars - getting a little distracted by two Brits who joined us and trying to explain to onlookers the rules behind the crawl. To say the least we barely made it half way down the beach but only because places close at 11pm with the exception of two... so really, we won. It was highly successful in both GT's and making us feel like utter shit in the morning. But we went the only way we know: BIG (and NOW Lifa's gone home).

Just Beachy

2006-12-10T22:22:00.000-08:00

FYI: I'm still alive

We've been doing pretty much nothing for the past 10 days with occasional interludes of scooting to the weekly Anjuna flee market, boating trips, and venturing into town for Baskin Robbins ice cream. The Wednesday flee market (started way back in the day when hippies sold their jeans in hopes to make enough money for some nan) is every week in a beach town about 90k North from our little beach. We both rocked the scooty for the day and braved the Indian roadways to get there. After sweet-talking our way out of not one, but two sketchy police stops and getting totally covered head to toe to eyes to nose in diesel fumes we made it to the sprawling market where we bought some stuff, ate some samosas and marveled at all the white people!

The other major outing we've had was a little boat trip to see the dolphins and a itty bitty secluded beach just over yonder from ours but totally inaccessible by foot. It's home to some nice sand, crabs and monkeys and all night ravers every now and again.

That's about it. Laura leaves me on Friday only to be promptly replaced by my Mom who will hang out with me for the next 3 weeks. Peace outside!

Good Goa-ing

2006-12-02T20:35:00.000-08:00

Don't be surprised if you never see me again.

I'm here on Palolem beach in Goa. Life is good. I may never come home.

We live in a little coco-hut right on the beach and spend the days eating, swimming, lounging, floating, hammocking, drinking beers and cocktails, playing frisbee, and watching dolphins. It's stressful.

We'll be here for the next 2 weeks... don't expect much blog action.

Mumbizzle fo Shizzle!

2006-11-27T22:02:00.000-08:00

Lifa and I arrived in Mumbai (Bombay, if you will) over exhausted and totally sick of Indian transport. We knew Mumbai was going to be expensive as it is the New York City of India so when we found a room for quadruple what we're used to we agreed to stay. Little did we know, due to delirium, the room came with a rainbow-colour array of moldy walls and ceilings, a toilet that didn't flush, a shower that electrocuted, and a resident pigeon name Jimmy. (The ants, 1.5in mattress's, too short beds, and psychotic florescent lights were all things we were used to). Not to worry though, after complaining to the management (ie. the guy standing on the street) the water started running in the toilet, the bathroom electricity was shut off altogether, and the slats over the bathroom window were closed locking a freaked out pigeon inside. Great. We didn't spend much time in our room.

Instead we marvelled at the wonders of an Indian city without cows, rickshaws, people shitting in the streets (at least in the touristy areas) and the coffee shops and garbage cans! Amazing! (...ok, so I spoke too soon, we found all the garbage and cows shunned to Elephata Island) The street we hung around was comparable to Vancouver's Robson - full of high end shops mixed with street vendors, cafes, and restaurants. Plus all the regular people who can't seem to walk in a straight line or at a consistent pace.

We did all the regular tourist stuff like the Gateway to India, the beaches and markets, and Elephata Island (which paled in comparison to the caves of Ajanta) and also caught ourselves up on some much missed Western stuff like drinking real coffee, eating Italian ice cream, using quick Internet connections and going to see the new James Bond film in English. (Which, by the way, was pretty great, minus the fact that in the Hindi version all the sex scenes are cut out... and everyone knows that's half the reason to go see a Bond flick in the first place). We also saw our second Bollywood feature: Doom:2 - by far the best worst movie I have ever seen in my life. Again, it was all in Hindi so following the story line was slightly challenging but the action scenes were like nothing of this world! Sand boarding, rollerblading, skidooing, scootying, skydiving, things blowing up everywhere, and lots and lots of slow-motion (probably about 30+ minutes at least). The music was worthy of buying the CD (Lifa did) and the dance scenes, well... they involved lots of outfit changes, hand-in-the-air hip gyrating moves, and sexy "look back" looks. So hot. Don't worry, I'll buy the DVD when it comes out. You cannot miss this.

So we give a thumbs-way-up to Mumbai even though we had to live in a pigeon hole for 4 days. But if you think that just visiting Mumbai is visiting India you are sorely mistaken for Mumbai is a little haven of India that I don't think I will lay eyes on again while I'm here. The shopping is great, the food is great, the city is great. Mumbizzle fo Shizzle!

A Wothy Detour

2006-11-26T02:31:00.000-08:00

"We're going to a place named after Surry-rats?"

Yes. Yes. Because Lifa and I so badly wanted to add to our ever growing list of world heritage sites and see the Caves of Ajanta we needed to get to Surat to then get to Jalgon, to then get to Ajanta, to then get to the caves. Oh my Buddha!

Lifa does a great job of setting the scene you have to READ IT
You better have read that.

The caves were worth all the hassle, no sleep, sore back and bums and train station squatters. They were amazing. Dated from about 200BC to 650AD the abandoned Buddist caves were not discovered until 1819. They lie tucked away in a horse-shoe shaped george that houses a meek river but incredible views. There are 30 caves in total (not all of which are open or accesible) and each houses the most beautiful, detailed and breath-taking carvings and paintings. Of course no flash photography was allowed but hopefully the pictures give you an idea of what it was like. I could easily compare these caves to the tombs of the Kings in Egypt - so well preserved for being so old that it was hard to understand how they made them in the first place. I can sum their beauty only by saying: "it was worth being in the Surat train station for 3 hours".

The Last of Rajasthan

2006-11-23T21:55:00.000-08:00

After our camel episode in Jaisalmer Jusfa took a deep breath and another bumpy, 6 hour, staring filled bus to Jodhpur (yes, where the riding pants were named). We arrived at the bus station ....oh, oh wait, did I say bus station? I meant gas station - that's what they are here and I became truly Indian when I started bartering for a hotel room. That's right, got it down 50 rupees. Remember: in India you can bargain for ANYTHING. After some Fanta's and a nap we explored the old city, saw some cows, and contemplated the blueness of the "Blue City". Our hotel had a rooftop restaurant with a great view of the blue and the gigantic and looming Meherangar Fort built a long long time ago with someone in it! Alive! As the ultimate sacrifice to the Gods! Was this guy crazy?

We decided to take the tour of the Fort. Now, please understand. Rajasthan as a whole is chalked-full of old Forts and Palaces. Don't get me wrong, they're pretty neat, but after the 44th Fort and 87th city Palace they begin to get a little repetitive. Well! Who knew a deep voiced British-Indo accent could change my ways? An audio tour with my personal, seductive, non-staring friend who I could start, stop, fast forward or repeat when ever I wanted changed my mind, that's who. The fort, with or without the audio accompaniment, would have been amazing but Mr. Information just made my day.

Besides the blue and the fort and the bank machine we made use of Jodphur didn't have a whole lot of other stuff to offer to a weary traveller. We moved on to Udaipur, where this time we were dropped on the side of the road instead of any sort of station. Ok fine, it didn't seem to phase us as we were sugar-high off cheese crackers and makeshift biscuits. We did some wandering until we found a place to stay for the right price and settled in to become romantic in the wedding capital of India.

Udaipur is white (mainly) with rolling mountainy-hills surrounding two lakes (which are only full during and shortly after the Monsoons). It's very romantic - for India. In the middle of the largest lake is a super-duper swanky expensive hotel where all the rich white people stay and look out at people like me and Lifa wondering how we survived in such a savage environment. Oh how we wished we could stay there!

Although Laura and I weren't celebrating our anniversary, or getting married, or honey-mooning we did spend our time gazing into each other eyes and doing romantic things. We watched the sunset from Monsoon palace, watched the sunset again from a rooftop restaurant, and yes, one more sunset before our EPIC overnight sleeper bus journey to Surat. Along with our sunsets we also watched Octopussy, the 1983 James Bond flick filmed partly in Udaipur - right where we were (and in the super deluxe lake floating hotel). We enjoyed our curry and lassis (shaken, not stirred) in front of the T.V, atop a roof, atop Udaipur and I'd be happy to tell you to watch the movie, it's somewhat entertaining and totally unrepresentative of our experience there. Bond, Jusfa Bond.

Does Blue Clash with Camel?

2006-11-19T04:29:00.000-08:00

The thing about camels is that they have a hump. And the thing about the hump is that it makes sitting on the camel rather awkward. And the thing about the awkward sitting is that it's combined with just-as-awkward walking and trotting. And the thing about the awkward walking and trotting is that you have to endure it for 6 hours a day. And the thing about enduring it for 6 hours a day, for 2 days is that it makes your ass and thighs really, really, really sore.

My camel was named Lalu. Lalu was tall, curly, had one hump, two nose piercings, a sagging lillypad lip, cute fuzzy ears, quadruple-jointed legs, wore a bell and was generally very camelesque. Lalu was a well behaved, quite, leader who liked to snack on shrubs. We got along well.

Our camel safari into the Great Thar Desert started off with a jeep ride out to the desert's edge (or so we thought) and an introduction to our 3 guides (ages 26, 15 and 8!) and camels. We quickly saddled up with water and food and plodded out into the unknown with two other Danish girls and a French guy (who turned out to be great company). The day consisted of visiting some villages where the average age was about 5 and eating lunch under a tree for a few hours while the camels hobbled around with their legs tied together. More plodding, fly-swatting, and sweating in the hot hot heat went on after lunch and as there was a lot of time to just sit and contemplate, numerous questions when through my head.

Who invented the lassi?

Do dung beetles only eat dung?

What happens when a camel steps on a desert melon?

When night fell we enjoyed a campfire, chai and fresh chapatis. The evenings entertainment consisted of songs similar to the Lion Kinks track 1: "naaaaaaa cheven-yaaaaa, na na heeee-sheeeeee mo mo" and a bucket drum. After some apres camel sand-yoga and dung beetle punting we retired under the stars. I was glad to have the protection of a sleeping bag as it not only kept me warm from the cold desert wind but also kept the beetles out - others were not so lucky.

Another ass-beating day on camel back went by. I got a wicked sunglasses tan, ripped pants, and an entirely different view of "the camel". We arrived back in Jaisalmer and tried to get the sand out of everything.

The next day was spent doing what we do best: wandering and shopping. We checked out the old and still lived in Palace/Fort, bought some camel leather shoes, watched some kids play cricket, drank chai, bought more shoes/pants/bracelets etc, and tried to become shopkeepers for the day which didn't pan out so well.

We now will continue our Rajastan rumble in Jodhpur (the Blue City) then to Udaipur to join Liz Hurley and her new bo at their wedding (which Elton and the Beckhams will be attending) ... we hope they don't mind a surprise drop in.

Bringing Lassi Back!

2006-11-13T02:02:00.000-08:00

Pushkar is a small, very holy town (no meat, no booze, no PDA and cover up!), known for it's 100 ghats surrounding a lake and the annual Camel Fair it dawns every November. Because the camel fair jacks the prices of everything up about 9 to 10 times, JusFa decided to hit it up apres the camels. Quickly we found out this was a sweet deal as double rooms are about a buck fiddy each.

It didn't take much time at all to fall in love with Pushkar. As all must when they are in Pushkar, I got blessed. The deal is you go down to the lake and a priest will bless you for a "donation", after you're blessed you get a yellow and red string bracelet known as a Pushkar Passport which you can then use to fend off all the other priest that nab at you to be blessed while your hanging out in the town. Well worth the rupees. The blessing involved throwing flowers, coconuts, rice, lake water, reciting God names and thanks, reciting family members and blessing them, asking for good Karma and a long life and many children etc etc etc... It was a bit messy, a bit strange, and a bit hilarious but a bazaar and wonderful experience that ended with a bag of what Lifa and I have deemed 'Karma Balls', that our blessed family members now have to eat. Unfortunately Lifa got really hungry and ate most of hers and I left mine in our last lodge...

Other activities in Pushkar included shopping for the baggiest hippy pants possible, nice wrap-around shirts, getting henna and head massages (by none other than the son of the man who head massaged Queen Elizabeth when she was visiting Jaipur ten something years ago! That's correct, in Pushkar there are generations of highly skilled head massagers), drinking lots and lots of banana lassis, and hauling are butts up a mountain to a shabby temple with a wonderful view, and more shopping in the ghetto touristy areas, feeding the monkeys karma balls and all the like.

We are now heading off to get intimate and interactive with some camels and dunes on a wee safari outside of Jaisalmer...in the middle of the desert. Stay tuned for pictures of Lifa eating it on her camel, I'm sure hilarity entails...

"Welcome to India. I want to have sex with you."

2006-11-13T01:32:00.000-08:00

Contrary to my tourist-geared 'Incredible India' map which assures me when I arrive in India I will be greeted with a warm "Namaste", an "expression of both welcome and respect", I am greeted with this (see post title).

Back in India. Back in India.

After a last day of explosive shopping in Kathmandiggigy (good one Katie) Lifa and I took a flight back into Delhi, where this time, we dominated. Rickshaws, hotels, aloo gobi, shoes, trains...we rocked it all in less than 12 hours and were on our way to Jaipur in no time. A smooth 5 hours later we were bunkered down in our itty bitty 8ft by 8ft room planning our next 4 weeks in this bazaar country. First and foremost on the list was to experience a Bollywood flick at "THE" place to go see one - the Raj Mawal Theater...pretty much the equivalent to the Orphum in Vancouver. Faaaaaannnncccccy! We went to buy our dollar fifty tickets in advance and on the way found McIndia! I mean, McDonalds! Fries and shakes were a must before the movie and yes, they were the best fries and shake I've ever had in my life.

Ok, so the movie. "Don" (www.donthefilm.com)(or see Lifa's blog) was pretty much the Hindi version of all the best flicks I've ever seen combined into one. Three hours and one intermission went by and we didn't understand anything, but that's not the point. The point is this movie was romance, musical, action, drama, suspense, thriller and comedy all packed into one! Not only did everyone in the movie appear more good looking than anyone I've seen in India so far, the dance numbers alone were just out of this world. From the 'I'm seducing you and doing aerobics on the bars on your bed' number, to, my personal favorite 'I got a brain transplant, couldn't remember anything but now I do...Praise Vishnu!' number. They were all just so head wobbly, big smiley, arm extravagant pieces of art! So funny, so so funny. Laura and I will be testing out our newly learned dance moves in Mumbai's club scene. I mean, I know we could never pull off the 'wet sari' number but we're going to try just for the fun of it.

Ok, so Jaipur. It was full of forts and old stuff. As Laura calls it. "cultural shit". So we did all that, got really dirty and sweaty, swatted at lots of begging children, and enjoyed two McVeg nights at McD's because there was really nowhere else to eat. In a nutshell we checked out the fort, palace, and Mahal that they had going on. Everything was pink, as the city as known for it's pinkyness, and now for it's rude pubescent school boys (again, see post title).

But just so you know, the tables have turned. India Round II - bring it!

Score
JusFa: 88
India: Nada!

Back to Reality (Pokhara)

2006-11-06T00:22:00.000-08:00

Alas, we arrived back in reality (which I was ready for). Back to sandals, warm weather, sleeping past six, delicious food, grocery stores, bakeries, clean laundry and all the wonderful little things you are surrounded by but tend to take advantage of. After arriving in Pokhara the evening of our last trekking day we took Nirpa the porter out for dinner and spent the night thanking him for being so wonderful - he really made the trek a fantastic experience... and we compared him with all the other porters - we lucked out and got the best one for sure, for sure.

Pokhara is Nepal's second biggest city after the capital and is a trekkers haven. It's got all the shops, restaurants, lounging places and lassi stops of KMD but none of the pollution. The city itself is surrounded by the Himalayan mountains and lines Phewtal Lake. Overall not a bad place to relax at all. The first day back in town was spent cleaning. Cleaning everything, then gasping at the outrageous Internet prices, then stuffing our faces with chicken curry and momo's. After the essentials were out of the way we decided to rent a boat, but not just any boat though, the B.Lassi. She was the most wonderful foot-paddle boat you'll ever see. I thought we may sink, but she pulled through and we spent four hours paddling out to the other side of the lake and hiking to the Peace Pagoda, then paddling back to the middle of the lake and floating around eating sandwiches and cookies and quenching our thirst with ... yes, Fanta.

The next days are all a blur as relaxing is just so good. We bought some new books, drank some good tea, wandered around aimlessly and in honor of Halloween, purchased a Snickers and Nutella sandwich. Yes, you heard me. Snickers and Nutella together at last, in sandwich form. Amazing to say the least.

When enough relaxing had been done we signed ourselves up for a two day rafting trip on the Seti River. Expecting death defying rapids we came back a little disappointed, it was tame to say the least. As we floated along the river, not doing much for the majority of the time I realized I am a bit of an adrenaline junkie. For brief moments we would hit some rapids and once or twice get thrown around about but mainly just splashed a lot. It was not enough and I wanted faster, harder, stronger, longer - everything to make it exciting. The food was a main focus for the trip, cooking was a massive production however it turned out delicious for camp food. The night, oh the night. The night was spent in the shabbiest tents in the world. It was uncomfortable, wet and hilarious. The little 2-person pup tents were held up by the paddles we had used that day and they tended to collect water in every which way possible. As careful as we were to try not to touch any of the sides or top AND not bump the carefully balanced, erect paddle in the middle holding everything up, it was pretty much impossible. The door zipper didn't work and the bugs and frogs snuggled up with us for a restless and painful night. SO freaking funny.

So, just when you're looking forward to a nice soft bed and non-smelling walls you walk into a Maoist coo right outside your hotel. Apparently there was a "bad man" who has been doing bad things and ripping off people and beating people up and now the Maoist 'policing' has decided it was enough. Rumor was they were going to cut his hand off so we were watching with great anticipation...but that never happened, things settled down and the night ended without bloodshed and instead with a hot shower and chocolate pudding. Nepal is great.

Annapurna: Days one - four

2006-11-05T23:57:00.000-08:00

Forward:

I'm not sure how to go about blogging this. It's been so long, so much has happened, we're just not communicating like we used to! Ok, I need to calm down, collect my thoughts and tell you about this Mother of a trek because that is what it was, the Mother of the Nepal treks.

Let us be honest. Lifa and I didn't know what we were getting into. We knew the trek was long, we knew it was hard, we knew a day would come when we would curse the Himalayan mountains for ever being born but what we did not know the degrees to which each of these aspects would come into play. The following is a melange of what happened in somewhat chronological order and grouped into geographical clumps. Why? Because that's the way I like it. And, although Laura's entries may contain more detail, mine have lots of pictures because a pictures says a thousand words and that way I don't have to write them

Bhulbhule, Bahundanda, Chamche, Bagarchhap

Our journey started off from the big KMD where we and our porter Nirpa took a bus to Besishahar, checked in with the Annapurna conservation office and hopped another terrifying and incredibly slow rooftop bus ride to the start of the trail on a road which made those of Bodhgaya look like silk. A short hike later we were resting in our first tea house, purifying water, and enjoying some dal bhat (the Nepali staple food. An 8am start the next morning and we were off enjoying the scenic river and waterfall views, little villages, and beautiful jungly forests inter spaced with fields, snotty children, donkeys, and goats. Loving the Nepali lifestyle and loving the walking stick we invested in in KMD. After some intense uphill action for a few hours we were hot, very sweaty and ready to chill out in our on the hill lodge when we hit up some more dal and met some other Canadians - from VanCity. This isn't so bad... this isn't so bad. Day three took us up, and down, and up. and down. and up and down again for the whole day. Nepali flat they like to call it. Notable mentions were the delicious Dal we had in Tal and the fact that now it's getting a little nippy in the evenings as we climb elevation and get further into the mountains, paying off the Maoists 1500rps to let up by their checkpoint, climbing over the occasional landslide and the fact that we are now official in the middle of nowhere and it's strange being so isolated - no communication, barely electricity, and really, there's no one here.

Overall we're trekking at a good speed, and leaders of our little "pack" anyway. The others may have speed but we have endurance and always end up at the destination village first. You tend to see the same groups on the trail, so you get to know who everyone is... and of course we make up life stories for everyone. There's a lot of time to think while trekking - you've got to come up with some fun games and makeshift drama to keep it exciting.

Annapurna: Days five - ten

2006-11-05T23:37:00.000-08:00

Chame, Lower Pisang, Manang, Yak Kharka, Throng Pedi

By day five it was officially cold, especially at night, especially when there's no form of heating anywhere. Hiking in the cold wasn't so bad at all as the constant uphill battle kept the blood pumping but the second you stopped it was shiver central. By this time in the trek there were some great views of Annapurna II and Pisang Peak which loom over the valley that hugged the trail for a few days. I kept happy and energized with the ipod (thank you Apple, for this wonderful invention) and the White Rabbit candies and Snickers bars I toted along the way. By day six we were at 3400m after a steep steep 3 hour up climb, then some Nepali flat. It was the only time I woke myself up from a sleep because I stopped breathing (common in high altitudes - you're bodies way of getting rid of too much CO2). To acclimatize a bit more we did a few short hikes up past our lodge then came back down to sleep low. In Pisang we checked out a beautiful old mountain temple, watched goats feast on pot plants, and snuggled in around the fire for dinner to eat momo's and garlic soup.

A long and gradual climb led us to Manang where we spent two nights to acclimatize and feast on the best food of the trek to date. Sandwiches, apple pie, and veg burgers sort of made up for the restless sleeps we'd been having since Lower Pisang. On our day off we went to a free lecture put on by the HRA (Himalayan Rescue Association) which was started by volunteer doctors who take turns staffing clinics around the Annapurna and Everest Regions. They aid about 70% locals and 30% trekkers and of course are totally non-profit. The lecture was about altitude sickness and AMS (acute mountain sickness) and I thought it was very informative and worthwhile despite the dumb ass questions that were asked by a few attendees. After learning about AMS symptoms, how to deal with them, and when to actually worry I felt much better that I could rescue Lifa if need be.

Two more short but very steep days took us to 4591m and the base of the Throng La Pass. Notable mentions were the fact that it was snowing off and on the whole time, freezing cold, and the fact that I smelled really really bad having not shower in days. We also spotted some spectacular wildlife - a golden eagle, some yaks, and spotted deer, all very neat. Throng Pedi was our last stop before the pass and one of the most isolated places I have ever been to (they only open the tea house there during peak season). Lifa and I spent the evening playing cards with Nirpa and some other porters and stressing in anticipation of the next day. We were in bed by quarter past six ready to get up and kick Throng La's ass.

Annapurna - The Throng La Pass

2006-11-05T22:54:00.000-08:00

Day eleven: Throng La Pass, 5416m

After a -25C night with no heating and doors that barely close we rose at 4am, huddled around the one tiny space heater in the communal eating area and tried to shove eggs and bread down. Not easy when you know what a daunting task lays ahead of you for the next 8 hours. All they layers we brought with us were on, it was dark and with the light of our headlamps we headed straight up. Up, Up, Up. After an hour and a half of switchback climbing we stopped to rest at High Camp, 4850m. With each step it seems the oxygen in the cold air disappears more and more. We were at the point where boogers freeze as soon as they hit the air, and lets be honest, no on likes frozen boogers suck to their face and clothes...but at this point, there's just nothing you can do about it. All the tang water we brought, frozen, my hands, frozen, my eyeballs, frozen. Everything was just so cold and the air was just so thin. As the sun rose the mountains appeared as they should - just. so. big.

Climbing, climbing, climbing. Never have I demanded so much from my body. But considering everything and all the potential symptoms of acute mountain sickness the old bod performed with flying colours and just plugged along. Three hours and twenty minutes later I was at the top, looking at the sign, writing in the snow, almost delirious with happiness that I only had to go down from there on in. Lifa and I celebrated with outrageously expensive lemon tea in a little hut and as we sat there sheltered from the freezing wind I looked at her. It was bad.

"Lifa?"
(stunned look)
"We need to descend. Now"

"yeah...yeah... we should do that"

"ok, lets go. Follow me"

Down, down, down. As Laura's Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS) set in more and more I hated going down the stupid mountain more and more. Snow covered everything, it was very steep and we slipped, slid, felt, tumbled, sidestepped, back stepped and cursed our was down the steep rock faces. It seemed eternally mountainous and with every turn my tired legs shuddered at the sight of the the rock/snow switchbacks that always happened to caress ridge or gully edges. I felt like Frodo in Lord of the Rings and I think it took the time of the whole trilogy to get down the pass. Laura's altitude symptoms of headache, dizziness, nausea, and chest pain got progressively worse and when we finally arrived out of the snow and to the nearest town she remained bedridden and barfing until the next morning. Not even a potato momo would tempt her to eat.

"Ride it out Lifa, ride it out"

"Kill me now Justice! Just kill me know... bllllleeeeeaaaaaah!"

Oh, it was just so bad. I ate dinner alone and missed her.

The next morning the sun was warm, the altitude was low(er), although still way higher than any mountain in B.C. and Lifa was still alive. A sugary pancake later we were on our way down down down some more to Kagbeni, two hours away and the next stop on the map. Thank Jebus it wasn't far, my poor little legs were so tired and sore and Lifa's whole body pretty much imploded so a day lounging in the common room was calling us like nothing ever before.

For a similar story about what the pass is like read "Into Thin Air".

Throng La was my Everest.

Annapurna: Days tweleve - sixteen

2006-11-04T22:49:00.000-08:00

Kagneni, Marpha, Ghasa, Tatopani, Pokhara

Up sucks, down kinda sucks too but as the air becomes thick and full and oxygen heavy my lungs rejoice and expand in happiness.

So, we made it over the pass and it's all easy from here. Easy, but hard on the feet. For some reason Nepali people think it's a great idea to make "roads" out of sharp-side-up, jagged rocks that make your ankles roll, your stick get stuck, you're feet fall over themselves and just nothing good could ever come of them.

We gladly came out of potato and powdered milk land and into the fresh apples and cabbage land. Sometimes, you just take what you can get. Along with fresh food we also got... dun dun dun daaaaa.... a shower! a HOT shower! I won't lie, pre-pass, I hadn't cleaned myself in over eight days. I just don't like bathing with a bucket and ice cold water. Delights such as fields of marijuana plants, hot springs, Everest beer, warm nights, distilleries, and chicken sandwiches were all part of the more popular Jompson trek, or our way down. I could tell you more but it would just be about walking, more walking, and oh yes, yes, more walking. The timing was just right we're ready to be done, and I don't plan on walking this far, for this long, or this high for a long long time.

Going big, not home

2006-10-11T23:43:00.000-07:00

Why come to Nepal if you're not going to trek? And why bother trekking if you're not going to do the best one? And by best, I mean longest, hardest, and highest. Ah yes, the Annapurna circuit is what Lifa and I have decided to do. The 21 day hike takes you around the Annapurna range and up to about 5400 meters. To put that into perspective the top of Whistler mountain is 2182 meters. We leave tomorrow with our porter but no guide (don't worry, we have a map!). We've fitted ourselves out with all the latest trekking gear: baseball hat, rain covers, and of course super cool walking sticks with built in compasses!

The deal is hike high, sleep low. We leave early in the morning (like 5-6am) and hike for 6-8 hours then eat and sleep in little tea houses along the way.

So the moral of the story is, google Annapurna, check it out and think of me on October 21st taking 3 breaths for every step. Oh man, I'm gonna die.

Peace out for 3 weeks.

You know how I love Nipple

2006-10-11T23:35:00.000-07:00

Oh Nepal, oh I love thee!
Compared to India, you're just so easy!
Your spicy tea and eggplant lasanga,
Your baby elephants and Everest beer,
The way you can get me from point A to B
Without pulling out my hair and wanting to flee!
Yes, I will stay to explore... just a little more

Kathmandu is a delicious polluted paradise for trekkers and the like. We arrived after the hellish bus ride only to delight ourselves in wonderful Nepali tea and bakery goods, wandering the streets somewhat free of hassle, HOT water and clean sheets, laundry, oh just some wonderful things that only travelling can make you appreciate. A day of doing stuff (yes, like chores) was spent and then a visit to the famous Durbar (no, not Dunbar) Square where ancient temples and palaces are held together (just) under a World Heritage Act and you can really see how the city was way back when, thousands of years ago. Kathmandu has a neat combo of Hindu-Buddhism going on, sort of all mixed together so there's Vishnu on one corner and Buddha on the other, pray to both and you'll be extra lucky. I'm all over the good Karma.

We decided to make the trek out to the famous Swayambhunath (Monkey) temple, which the LP failed to mention was up a gazillion stairs. On a hot day this was not a peasant surprise but we managed and of course, it was worth it. Supposedly Kathmandu used to be a giant lake and this temple protruded as an island shrine. Now, little monkeys guard and wander the grounds looking to either attack you or drink your discarded Coke. The view from the temple gives a sprawling panoramic view of the city - pollution galore!

Chitwan National Park was pretty much the opposite of the capital city. Elephants, rhinos, tigers oh my! We spent three days chilling out with the animals, drinking beers, bathing elephants, riding them, patting them and generally becoming obsessed with them. Besides the brutal heat, forty thousand mossy bites, and the GIGANTIC spider that lived in our bathroom for a day it was just the best!

So, now we're back in Kathmandu-ing stuff to get ready for the big trek. Oh yah!

Darling Darjeeling

2006-10-11T23:29:00.000-07:00

This post is late, I'm behind, I know I know.

We spent 4 days in Darling Darjeeling, a high altitude mountain town, where we ventured without hesitation, exploring the steep paths, shops, post office (my favorite) and other hidden treasures. Darjeeling is known for it's expansive valleys of tea plantations, it's Toy Train, and Tiger Hill, a point in which you can view four of the five highest peaks in the world. Oh yes, we did it all, Jusfa styles.

Instead of opting for the conventional "Jeep" route to Tiger Hill (a 45 minute drive) I asked the buddy who runs the pony stables: "Hey, hey buddy, can we take some ponies to Tiger Hill tomorrow?"

"mmmmm, yes, I think we can do that, but you will need a guide"
"of course, yes, a guide. ok ok"
"alright, you be ready at 3AM"
"3AM?!?"
"Yes, ok, no problem, 3AM"
"ok, 3AM it is"

After a 2:30AM rise we were ready at 3AM and waiting. Of course, we forgot about the offical "Indian time" lag and we set out in the dark for the stables where we found some ponies but nothing else. Another 20 minutess later we werer on our way clip-clopping up to the peak. The ponies were small but it was worth every penny as convoys of Jeeps rolled by us, wide-eyed and amazed at our boldness. The pony route is clearly not done often, if ever. The sunrise, although not the clearest, was spectacular and for a brief 10 minutes we marveled at the monstrosity of the huge mountains. They need a better word then 'mountain', it just doesn't cut it, these peaks are far beyond mountains. We left the ponies grazing and hiked further up the hill to the highest lookout point where Indian families exploded out of the Jeeps wanting to take their picture with us - weird and kinda rude to say the least. The place was littered with plastic tea cups, batteries, general crap - not a garbage can around - another "no-system" example. Amazing to see nonetheless but also hard to seperate the beauty from the utter chaos that is happening around you. We returned to our guides only to find them pimping our ponies out for rides and pictures - 20 rupees. Typical. This disqulified them from getting a tip from us as they clearly pocketed plenty from the pimping. By the time we returned back with really really sores asses we snoozed and enjoyed to cool Darjeeling air.

The following day we hitched a ride on the (apparently) spectacular Toy Train ride around a loop at the top of the city. It was cloudy and in my opinion not amazing at all, somewhat of a waste of time but can check it off the World Heritage to do check list. We didn't see much you couldn't have seen from walking, I found it slow and boring and short. But the latter tea tasting part of the day was just great. I (heart) tea.

The ride back to Siliguri was the opposite of the train. The same jam-packed type Jeep took us down in the absolute pouring rain, one flat tire right off the bat then we U-turned down a short cut - down only, one way lane, zig-zagging along the side of a mountain. Saw a few crashed cars and managed to get the bottom where the surrounding tea plantation valley was just lush and beautiful... but not as great as our second flat. We had no time to waste as we had another 2 busses to catch so we flagged another Jeep and made it into town. Hours and hours and hours later, and many horror stories past we made it to Nepal! I can't possibly discribe the bus ride. Think pigs, pigeons, people on our laps, not working buses, and everything else chaotic. I've blocked it from memory, it's better this way.

From Bodhgaya to Darjeeling and everything inbetween

2006-09-30T03:19:00.000-07:00

** This entry was taken directly from my written journal when we arrived last night so it's fresh, honest and probably not the most reader friendly but entertaining nonetheless. Enjoy **

Leaving Bodhgaya I had only two goals in mind to do while in Darjeeling
1) Take a shower
2) Do laundry

Yes, yes we have come a long way. From Bodhgaya we jerked around in a shared auto-rickshaw to the Gaya train station where we preceded to buy "free for all", non-reserved seats for the 3 hour leg to Patna. This, we learned quickly, need the bitch factor to be turned up to 25: pushing, shoving, squishing, staring, glaring - whatever needed to be done. We made it through in one piece and came out much tougher than going in. Patna was a "rest" stop for 5 hours before our overnight train and instead of attempting to cross 12 "lanes" of bazaar-o-land traffic we paid a rickshaw guy 10rps. to do it for us and take us to a nice hotel where food could be had. Their fancy restaurant was closed until 7:30pm suppertime buy they were kind enough (or pitied enough) to let us order from the room service menu, call a cook, and whip us up a delicious batch of dal and nan - with two Fantas of course. We dined like queens in their AC'd Internet room in which after we made use of their quick connection and generators, as the power went on and off the whole time we were there. Just wonderful.

Anyway, another rickshaw ride later we were back at the train station doing jigs to entertain the large crowd that was circling us - just because we're white girls! Halla! So, just when all you want is a bunk with clean sheets and a pillow, after 13 hours of sweaty, aggravating travel and there in your bunks AS1 - 17 and 18 are snotty UK old folks with their personal India guide whom they tell to "BETTA GO DEAAAL WITH IIIT!". omg. For the record, we checked with the conductor AND about 3 other well train versed Indian travellers, we were in the right but they moved us to another car nonetheless, got some clean linens and that was that. Just another pain in the ass. Ok, ok. So families come and go around us, lights are on and off, hands on your bunks and in your beds and finally we arrive in NJP - hot, sweaty, annoyed...again. After two back and forth trips to the tourist office (no one here ever knows anything) we conclude that another rickshaw journey must be taken. So, in and out with bags in tow, a couple of rickshaws later we agree on a price and off we go. From the bus station we locate the pre-paid Jeeps to take us up the mountains to Darjeeling and also our first ice cream bars of the trip - delicious! Ten minutes of sweating in the shared Jeep pass, sweat rags sopping and already somewhat uncomfortable in our sideways trunk seats we watch our bags flung to the roof, get strapped down and off we go with one sketchy driver! Within the first 5 minutes I comment to Lifa on his poor, or lack of, breaking skills.... ahhhhh, foreshadowing! Up, up, up! Switching back and fourth. Break, Gas, Honk! Honk, Break Gas! To make what was supposed to be a 3.5 hours trip one that turned into 5.5 hours you know just a few things we aw re.

Problem one: buddy crashed the car.

Yeah, I called it. I know. We slam into the back of the Jeep ahead of us... other buddy is pissed, no one knows what to do...yap yap yap and we all climb in again when the car starts thinking we're going somewhere but instead pull ahead 7 yards because we've got a flat. I take the opportunity to take a leak, Lifa snaps some shots, we ponder the beauty of the hills then finally regroup and try again.

9 almost car crashes later we stop again because buddy needs to replace the now flat spare tire. Fine. We wait. Have I mentioned at all how shoddy this road it? No? Picture the Sea to Sky when someone, somewhere first had the vision to build it...then picture just about a car and a half's length wide...but no road, not even gravel, not even anything - we didn't get about 40k/h. So, here we go again only to hit a town having some sort of dead baby parade (deductive conclusion) all over the one and only road. Wait, wait, wait. Hours later we're dropped in the middle of the most wonderful town where we wander, hire a porter to carry our bags up the mountain, find a hotel and are told (remember goal number one and two) there is no running water anywhere as the past weeks rains have caused a landslide on the supply line, killed 8 people, and they are trying to recover and get things working again. Just think: the smelliest you've ever been, times it by 30 and know you will not be getting any cleaner for the next week. Alas, I managed to suss enough ice cold water to wash my hair and face in the sink - just. The possibility of clean clothes is grim. I will just buy some new ones.

But really, this place is just delightful. No cows, cars, or people staring. Cool and crisp air, nestled within the Himalayan foothills. A good first impression and a great first meal at one of the smallest hole-in-the-wall Tibetan restaurants which served us the best ever chicken soup I've ever had and hot hot tea. I am in love.

For all the missing details of this blog entry visit Lifa's blog...a whole nother story!

Finding Enlightenment?

2006-09-28T05:43:00.000-07:00

Varanassi, a holy place where the streets are slick with cow shit from days and days of Monsoon rain. It was a challenge trying to navigate the lanes, alleys, ghats, streets, markets, paths and crannies of this city. In fact, it's so difficult addresses don't even exist as they would be meaningless. Lifa and I explored for 3 days. Up the river, down the river, and up the river again. It was memorizing watching the colours of the women, children and men dip themselves into the waters to cleanse their souls. Not only do non-Indian tourists come here but many "cultural tours" of India make a stop to let all the people take a dunk. Laura braved her big toe and did a little splashing...but really, that river is just disgusting. Just watching what rolls into it from Varanassi alone is appalling, then add on the hundreds of other cities that use it as their dumping grounds... ew!

We spent a day about a half hour auto-rickshaw ride from Varanassi center, checking out some very old Buddist temples and fending off beggars. The beggars are something I'm getting tired of. There are just so many, and they are so aggressive a lot of the time you have to physically push them out of the way. We're not two weeks into it, I know, but India is just a beat you down until you can't take it any more country... totally utterly exhausting. But the plus side of all the rain in Very-Nasty was the fact that we didn't find it too hot to drink about 30 pots of Chai each. Not only is this Indian tea mind-blowingly wonderful but it also will keep you awake for hours on end which we learned one night...that turned into a very early morning. If only I had known this during exam time.

As the title of this blog suggests, Lifa and I went on a search for enlightenment and the obvious choice of places to go looking was Bodhgaya where, under an old Bodhi tree, Buddah found his. I tried, I swear. But with all the hustle and bustle around and millions of people staring out you it's just not an easy task. We concluded enlightenment was similar to a very cold Fanta, on a very hot day. Ahhhhhh!

In Bodhgaya I also picked up some sort of delightful throat infection (yet to be dealt with) and a leaf of the actual tree Buddah became enlightened under! Amazing! The multitudes of Buddist temples around the sight make a regular pilgrimage stop for many - although that is mainly in October to late November and we only saw one other whitey. However, the town, as poverty stricken as it is, has a quaint feel that gives you that enlightened feeling...oh that enlightened feeling...

As of now, I am sitting in the wonderful AC of the Hotel Windsor in Patena, a mere pit stop for a overnight train connection to NJP, which is another pit stop on the way to Darjeeling. Two haul ass days of travel, that is for sure. Rickshaw, bus, train, rickshaw, cycle, train, rickshaw, train, and toy train. chug chug chugging along here in India. Sometimes I love it, sometimes I want to tell it to shove it (like earlier today). It changes by the second and dependent on how many people are trying to rip me off at a time.

Sorry about the lack of photos, I will add them later. It has just not been in the cards lately. Hit or miss with the computers, hit or miss with the power. Hit or miss India!

Ghandhi wouldn't be staring

2006-09-20T23:59:00.000-07:00

Lifa and I arrived in India and made it to our shabby hotel in one piece (just). Delhi is indescribable. Hot, sweaty, noisy, pushy, smelly, polluted, crazy - maybe combine those words and times them by thirty...you'd be getting closer. We survived 2 days of it including almost dying in a bicycle rickshaw, almost dying of heat during regular power cuts, almost dying arguing with buddies over prices, and almost dying trying to get to the train to get out of the city. We checked out the Red Fort (a main attraction) and have moved on to a smaller and better place - Agra, home of the Taj Mahal.

Agra is more manageable and our little lodge is just so fantastic. A rooftop restaurant (which serves banana lassis and chocolate and banana pancakes - a new addition to the menu because of us) overlooks the center city area and the Taj - just totally amazing. My first glance definitely took my breath away. So far the biggest problem here has been: What am I going to wear to the Taj Mahal? A nice change from the utterly frustrating experiences of Delhi pesters. Now don't get me wrong, the in your face style of nattering is everywhere but perhaps we're just getting a little more used to it, or my crazy "no" dance is scaring most of them away...some of them laugh at me - laugh all you want, it works.

There is a festival of some sorts (Hindu Gods and such) going on outside. Elephants, floats, lights, hats, music - it's totally crazy, India styles. Because of the fact that the town has been turned into a Hindu Vegas there has been consistent and long lasting power cuts all day. It's so freaking hot without the little fan going I can't even explain. Too bad we didn't know about the festival earlier...we would have stayed another night to party with the locals. But alas tonight we are hitching a ride on the overnight train to Varanassi, one of the holiest cities in India where bodies are burned and dumped into the most polluted river in the world. Part 50 is considered not swimmable water, the Ganges is part 1.5million.

I have now figured that in India, where ever you go, no matter how tourist oriented, there is always the stare. And I feel, personally, that Lifa and I get started at more than most. We even caught two different men taking pictures of us with their cell phone cameras at the train station. Trying to be sooooo sneaky. I don't like to think what they do with those pictures. I'm going to get a t-shirt made with the Hindi writing "Ghadhi would be staring". Just something we have to get used to but some days it's just particularly aggravating.

Okay - so I'm out to the holy city to see one of the most famous rivers in the world and cleanse my wrong doings.

Typhooning on my parade

2006-09-16T01:06:00.000-07:00

4 Amber alert typhoon warnings have set my remaining HK plans off track. Rain, wind, lightning, thunder, umbrellas poking you in the eye every which way...the madness! Even school children were sent home from their afternoon classes. I have been set back. The original plan was to check out Lantau for a day and Macau for another - both islands off the coast of HK, each about an hour ferry ride away. But when you're utterly soaking the entire time and your brolly is being blown inside-out, it just isn't as fun. So, alas, another reason I will have to come back. Mel and I did however, make it to Lamma, on a day that turned out to be just ideal (as it only started Typhooning on our way home). I swam in the warm oceans, hiked some jungly paths, and enjoyed the view - a hippy island really and we also made it to Cheung Chau Island where we rented bikes for a few hours, toured the hills and chilled with some beer...all very civilized as there are no cars on either of the Islands. We were so relaxed we managed to miss the 3.5 earthquake that happened during dinner. We then went to Stanley market where I could have done some serious shopping, but ended up with a few hair bands and a skirt. Don't get me wrong though, I will return and do some damage.

As I've said before, Mel's family has been spoiling me rotten. Dinner with her Dad Jimmy is an affair alone and I have had not only the best seafood of my life (we picked it out while it was still swimming around) but also the best Kobe steak I think I will ever have! I have had endless dishes placed in front of me and have tried pretty much everything, some of it I don't even know what it is. Meat, meat, meat for breakfast lunch and dinner is getting somewhat tiresome however and I'm looking forward to the change that a mainly vegetarian India has to offer.

Tomorrow I leave for Delhi, with a short stop in Singapore and will, if all goes according to plan, be greeted by Laura in the airport. I think we're ready. Let's go India! Bring it!

Mei Zhou, China - a guai mui adventure

2006-09-15T21:27:00.000-07:00

I am now officially Asian. Mel, Cail, Penny, Leroy and I - along with with Mels entire family (all 40+ of them) went to the home village that they were all born in. Warm Chinese traditions surrounded the whole trip and it was totally amazing. We took a 6 hour bus ride there and watched feast number one be prepared while giving thanks at the home temple. Food, more food and yes, more food - always eating.

We spent time visiting some very old temples built high into the surrounding mountains that gave the aura of peace and thanks and also participated in traditional prayer ceremonies involving incense lighting and firecrackers. Neat. Massages from feisty little Chinese girls were also on the menu - ow! but so so good.

The best part of the whole trip was the Chinese disco Club Gold Coast. Oh man, that place was cooooraaazeee! The village is so poor yet this disco was just insane! 40ft ceilings, glass windows, smoke machines, levitating dance floors and dancing call girls! Just totally unbelievable. Nothing like you could even imagine. Of course being white was a big hit there so we rocked the dance floor like nothing else while a continuous stream of Brittany Spears videos were playing on the big screen. AND the dancing call girls all had numbers tagged to them so you could just order one. Wild!

One the way home from China we stopped at the most amazing mall, Lowu. A seven level indoor market style center where you can bargain your brains out. Just my style.

3 days in China was just a teaser - a place that deserves at least 3 months.

Hongified

2006-09-13T06:07:00.000-07:00

Hong Kong is totally amazing. A super-sized combo of old and new and East and West. I'm living in Mei Foo, a convenient metro ride away from just about everything. The transportation systems here are far beyond anything I've ever encountered and you can get anywhere using your 'octopus card', or as I like to say "the octi-card". MTR, KCR, ferry, bus, tram, cable car, anything that moves is connected to a little card which you load up and scan when you enter/exit stations (it charges by distance)and you can also use the card at 7-11. Just incredible!

I love this city. I have been Hongified.

After arriving I had only enough time to shower before enjoying my first Dim Sum ever. And this my friends, was the begginning of the end. I have not stopped eating since. I am certain I have tried more new foods in the past 7 days than I have in the past 10 years of my life. I am being spoiled to death by Mel and her family and just being white can really get you places here. So, to set the scene, just imagine mounds and mounds of food every 4 hours or so...and I mean mounds, dishes upon dishes stacked one on top of the other because there just isn't enough space on the table. Now imagine me, only 20 pounds fatter.

The weather has been slightly uncompromising and about 3 amber alert typhoon warnings have been issued over the past 5 days. Rain, rain, rain. But, I have persevered! The 10,000 Buddha temple was first on my list and not well known on the tourist circuit - not another whitey, or anyone around. I also managed to squeeze the "Peak" in before the rain to get a beautiful view of the HK sky line and the outlying islands. I've educated myself at the History of HK Museum and learned about prehistoric pasts up until now - very interesting to say the least. Okay, so who am I kidding, the markets....OH the markets! These alone are the sole reason I *have* to come back here. I can't buy anything as I don't want to huff around with unnecessary weight but you can really buy anything your little heart desires here. My heart desires the shoes! There are indoor markets, outdoor markets, night markets, food markets, fish markets, tea markets, day markets...I love them all! My small purchases have included a bing-bong, a watch, and new sunglasses (already broke the ones I brought) but I am now exaggerating when I say I could spend thousands...thousands and thousands on shoes. Be proud, I have not bought one pair - not even tried them on. I only dream of them...

The moral of the story is: I will come back here one day to shop my little head right off.

More to come...

Justice in Asia!

2006-08-23T14:39:00.000-07:00

Ah, so. I am off to Asia on September 5th for who knows how long...

"The plan" : I stop over in Hong Kong for 10 days to check out the sights, sounds and smells with Mel and Cail and both of their parents! Rad. I forsee myself spending some time in Macau and perhaps a little on the Mainland. Then I have a supersonic birthday with bday breaky in HK, lunch in Singapore, and party time in Delhi where I will meet up with Laura (Lifa) in the evening.

India and Nepal will be the countries of choice for September-December with Lifa in which she leaves me (sniff), but only to be replaced by Aaron (the bf) who will be arriving sometime December/January after a month in New Zealand. Then more India, Sri Lanka, and Burma are on the agenda.

And that's if folks! Peace Out Side!